New Kid Stories 03: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard
by JustCallMeButtLord
Summary: It's time for the homecoming dance, and the middle school is all about who is dating who! Even worse, there's a singing contest... who signed The New Kid up! ? [Third installment of the New Kid Stories series. Rated M for coarse language/violence. Romantic themes include Stan x Wendy, Kenny x Cis!Female New Kid from the South Park games, and a bi-curious Butters.]
1. On Again, Off Again

It's only been two months since I started this project, and we're already on story number three. _Holy crap._

For those who have just arrived here without reading any of the previous stories; _**not to worry!**_ I write the New Kid Stories in an episodic fashion that _do not require_ you to read each and every one. I'd love it if you did, but there's no reason to feel obligated! All you really need to know is this: _**My version of 'The New Kid' is a Cis Female who has chosen to continue presenting as male for fear that she'll lose her main group of people she hangs out with, and while Cartman is a sack of shit she has grown to rather like the others. Also, they're in middle school now because aging them up made me feel more comfortable. She's still working as Buttlord, and has become a regular partner with Mysterion, with Call Girl as their non-powered buddy who helps them get shit done. Kenny and Wendy know that she's a girl, and there's been some romantic themeing between her and Kenny in the past two stories, and some EXTREMELY SUBTLE suggestions that Butters might be interested.**_

And now, for the caveat that I put on all of these stories: _The New Kid Stories is a project I write for_ _ **fun**_ _during times of my life that are too stressful to work on my more professional ambitions, thus I do not stress out over technical perfection before uploading. There_ _ **will**_ _be grammar mistakes, occasional missing words that occurred when I was writing too fast or when I was too tired to catch it, and other nit-picky things like that._ _ **I welcome being notified of these things so I can fix them,**_ _either via review, PM, or a poke over on my Tumblr [it's the same name as here], but I am_ _ **not**_ _going to stress out over them._

Hokay? Hokay!

 _On  
With  
The  
Fic!_

 _OWTF!_

 **:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – On Again, Off Again::**

"Wendy! H-Hey! Uh... could I talk to you?"

On the list of people Wendy talked to on a regular basis, Butters was not very high. They tended to run into one another as a consequence of their friendly spheres intersecting, but the majority of the time they really were _not_ on eachother's radar. She knew him as a _mostly well-meaning but also really misguided boy_ , and she was sure he knew her as the _entirely overzealous feminist who happened to be on the cheer squad._ Of the times they _had_ interacted in the past, she mostly remembered approaching _him,_ and yet? Here he was, rushing down the hallway to catch her in the last minutes before first hour, trying to get her attention.

She'd try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What's up, Butters?" She quested curiously, having just finished up at her locker before he got to her. He looked a little _different_ today, like he'd put extra effort into his hair or something? No, that wasn't quite it... something was _cleaner_ about his appearance, as if he were out to make a good impression. He even had a button-down shirt on. _Was he trying to look good for someone?_

"W-Well, y'see, there's the big dance coming up- _and, uh..."_

 _Oh shit, really? Butters, that's really sweet, but..._ "Oh, sorry, I'm already sorta... planning on going with someone else."

"Huh?" His head cocked, eyes widening in shock as he realized he'd been misunderstood. " _Oh- not you!_ Uh, no, um... Listen, do you know if, um... _Dee_ is going with anyone? To the Homecoming dance?"

 _Surprises on top of surprises,_ what was _this?_ Since when did Butters express an interest in another _boy,_ and so _publicly?_ Well, Dee wasn't _actually_ a boy, but Butters didn't know that- as far as the rest of the school was concerned, that kid had a dick, and some pretty sizable balls. "Who wants to know?" She asked with faux innocence, trying to wheedle out a little more information without directly _asking._

"W-Well, that's... _oh hamburgers,_ um... _it's me, okay?"_ Butters lowered his voice as much as he could while still being heard over the din of other students in the hall. The first warning bell rang- five minutes until first hour started. "J-just, I remember thinking Dee was really pretty since he first _moved_ here, and then the other day I overheard you telling him that he was 'gonna break a lot of hearts when he _came out,'_ and I figure if _he's_ gay and I _like_ him, maybe I should just _try_ it and see where it goes? I-I mean, if he's _okay_ with that, if he's not ready then... oh _darn_ I'm talking myself in circles. C'mon little buddy, you can _do this._ " He took a deep breath, seeming to stave off a bout of panic for an extra few minutes.

 _Holy crap she was right._ Wendy _thought_ that's why Butters freaked out the other day- the kid was wrestling with his sexuality! It had been a little while ago, more than a week, but Wendy had been talking with Dee about _coming out as a girl-_ but Butters must have misunderstood in his eavesdropping and thought she meant _coming out as queer..._ and now he was here, asking if Dee was _available_. For some reason that made her happy, though she couldn't put her finger on why. In the meantime, however, a correction had to be leveled. "Dee's _pan,_ not _gay._ He's capable of being attracted to anyone, regardless of gender. Boys, girls, people who don't identify as either, people who identify as both, gender fluid..." She waved her hand, listing gender identities was like trying to list all the different colors and shades one could possibly use in a painting. It came in as many varieties as there were _people_ to identify with them. "He just avoids _showing it._ When you get down to it, he's a little _shy."_

 _Angry_ was more like it- angry at puberty, angry at the entire _idea_ of romantic attraction and the fact that it couldn't just be _tuned out_ like so much noise. Angry that so many people were _obsessed with it_ as the end-all, be-all of what their life was about at the moment... but Wendy was convinced that Dee was only so pissed off because _not_ being angry would require admitting that _yes, the all-mighty **Buttlord** had feelings. _

" _What?!"_ Butter's took this information with a touch of _panic_ rising up into his voice. "But- _that means I gotta compete with the whole school-!_ H-How am I supposed to stand out?"

"... I don't think that many people are _interested_ in Dee, Butters." Wendy murmured, amazed how quick he was to over react. "Most kids just think he's _weird."_

" _But he's so pretty."_ Butters insisted, words he had no doubt repeated to himself a thousand times while working up the _internal nerve_ to admit that he wanted to ask the kid out, to himself before he could even act upon it in the world outside his head. "Ah, _nuts,_ I gotta move fast or I'm gonna lose my chance."

Second warning bell rang- two minutes before class. " _Ah!_ Me too." Wendy noted; she needed to hurry on to her math class or she was going to be late. "See you later, Butters- and good luck!"

* * *

"Did you hear? There's gonna be a _singing contest_ at the Homecoming dance- with prizes and everything!"

"You sound excited for someone with _no rhythm what-so-ever."_

" _SHUTTUP CARTMAN!"_

Ah, lunchtime. Dee found herself glad that her cohorts were nearly always fighting; it meant no one noticed that she and Kenny sat side-by-side pretty much every day. With any luck, Dee liked to arrange Kyle to her other side, as Stan always sat next to Kyle, and it afforded her _maximum distance_ from Cartman, regardless of what kind of table they sat at or what side of the chain the biggest asshole at school decided to sit on. If it was one of the round tables that populated the center of the middle school lunchroom, it simply placed her across from him. On days like today, where they were at one of the bench-type tables around the edges, she didn't even have to look at his fat face. She could just focus on her cheaply made hamburger and fries as she drowned them in ketchup and salt before wolfing into her food with abandon.

" _What?_ C'mon Kyle, you don't need me to remind you that Jews have _no_ rhythm at all- and no one wins a singing contest without a little _flash,_ a little _razzle-dazzle;_ no rhythm, _no razzle-dazzle!_ You can't win."

" _Well!_ We'll just see about that, right Stan?"

"Wait, you're roping me into this?"

"Yeah! I bet we could kick some ass."

"Well, I was... um... thinking about asking Wendy to sing something with me."

" _Oh shit, you're kidding me."_ Kyle's tone turned away from excitement and fell into a pit of disappointment. "Stan, please don't tell me you guys are doing this _again?"_

"It's been different!" Stan insisted. "We've been... different. I donno, it feels like there's a different kind of _trust_ between us lately, like we faced something hard together, but I can't remember _what._ Something's just _clicked,_ I guess."

"You cannot be serious, Stan- that _filthy harpy_ has broken your heart _way_ too many times, and you just keep crawling back to her. What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?" Cartman's voice lent itself to the conversation, but it didn't add much. "Besides, if you _don't win,_ singing a duet goes from _romantic_ to _tragic_ and that pussy _dries right the fuck up."_

" _Like you'd know anything about THAT, fatass!"_

"H-h-hey guys, how's it g—g-going?"

Eyes turned upwards; Jimmy was making his way over with his tray, Timmy close behind.

"Stan's getting back with Wendy. _Again."_ Kyle reported as Timmy rolled himself up to the end of the table and Jimmy had a seat; the pair were always a welcome addition to their table, and it gave Dee someone to glance up at between too-big bites of her burger. Her fries were already gone. Kenny was keeping similar pace, having yanked down his muffler to do so; it also gave them both handy excuse to _abstain_ from the current conversation. It seemed to be the constant buzz around the school- with a dance coming up, _everyone_ was on about who was dating who, the singing contest, or both.

Dee might have snuck a glance at Kenny, but it felt too obvious. Too public. What if someone noticed? What if someone _suspected?_

 _We're not dating. We haven't even **talked** about it, but... **fucking Mr. Hankey doing back-flips on a hospital bed I hate this horseshit.**_

And yet, here she was, sitting next to him every day they could arrange it so.

 _It's not like it's just me. When I get to the table first, he sits next to me. It's mutual. And weird._

"O-oh- congradu- congraduu- _congratulations!"_ Jimmy stammered out as he arranged his crutches before starting on his own tray of food; it appeared he preferred to drown his burger in BBQ sauce instead of ketchup.

"What are you _talking_ about? It's going to be a disaster- it always is!" Kyle insisted.

" _Timmy!"_

"Timmy's right." Jimmy agreed. "Yo-you can't let p-p-p-past failures stop you from t-trying again. If the spa- spaaaa- _spark_ is still there, you can't quit!"

"See!" Stan insisted. "This is what I keep trying to _tell_ you people! Wendy and I have _something_ that keeps driving us together, I can't just _ignore_ that."

"Listen, Stan, we can all agree the _bitch is hot,_ but you can't let your dick do all the thinking for you." Cartman coached sternly. "I'm seriously here, you _gotta_ give someone else a chance. We're your friends, and we all know that when you're _with_ Wendy you have less time for us, which sucks. Then you're _not_ with Wendy, and you become a fucking _sad-sap_ who is no fun to be around, which sucks. No matter what happens, it all sucks!"

"For _you guys, maybe!_ But for me, the times I've been with Wendy have been the happiest of my life!"

 _Good fucking god you are the biggest sack of crap, Stan. You're a **human fucking being,** throwing the full burden of your happiness onto another person isn't just unfair to them, it's unhealthy for you. Maybe if you focused on your own shit for a while, got back to what makes you feel like yourself, you wouldn't be so damn unstable in this on-again, off-again relationship. What happened to the animal lover? The sports guy? What happened to all the other ways you defined yourself? Kyle's told me stories. There's so much more to you than **being in love with Wendy.**_

" _Yeah, and right after you break up is all the worst times in your life."_ Kenny added, his muffler back in place and his tray clean. _"It's a fucking sea-saw with a vagina attached."_

 _That's one way to put it._

"D-don't listen to these skep- skeptics, Stan." Jimmy assured. "W-Why, just look at m-m-me! Nancy t-t-t-transfered to a whole different _school district_ and we still make a relation- re-re-relationship work!"

"Nancy?" Kyle quested. "Wait, you mean the girl you _beat the shit out of?"_

" _TIMMY! Tim-Tim-T-Timmy!"_

"That's r-right. I had a m-m-massive _drug problem._ Nancy helped m-me through it in the l-long run to st-stay clean, and s-s- _sure_ we've had our rough p-p-pat- p-p-p- _patches,_ but we've gotten _past_ that, and we're stronger f-for it."

"I thought you guys broke up back in fourth grade." Stan observed with no small note of surprise.

"We did! B-But I w-wouldn't give up, and w-w-we got back together. I'm actually go-going to the office a-after school to get a visitor's pa-pa-pass for her, so she can come to the d-dance."

"Just shows how _fucking retarded_ you guys are." Cartman grumbled. "On-again off-again is the _fucking worst."_

 _Shut your fat face, Cartman, if you bring up Heidi I will stop time and punch you right in the back of the head._

"E-excuse me?"

A little voice came from behind Timmy, and he reacted by rolling his chair slightly back to bring a girl into view. Mousy brown hair, big brown eyes- Dee didn't know her by name, but no doubt she was one of the _many_ followers to the Farting Vigilante's Instagram; everyone in this school was. In her hand was clutched a folded up note, which she quickly presented to Dee, reaching across the table and in front of Kenny to do it.

" _Hey!"_ Kenny protested, nearly getting an elbow in the face for how fast the girl was moving.

"T-this is for you." The girl said, waiting until Dee took the note. Sure enough, _Dee_ was written on the paper. Did she know that handwriting? Pretty sure she didn't, but oh well. Just as quickly as the girl had thrust her arm in to deliver the note, she withdrew it.

"'kay, bye!" She squeaked before scuttling away.

"Who was _that?"_ Kyle marveled.

"Who the fuck cares, what does the note say?" Cartman had leaned up in his spot, trying to peer around Kyle and Stan to get a peek, as everyone assumed Dee was going to open it right away and read it.

Instead, she quickly shoved the thing into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater.

" _What?!"_ Stan crowed. "You're not even going to _read_ it right away? What if it's urgent?"

Dee turned her gaze up towards Stan, brows in a flat line over her eyes, and her mouth equally so to form a look that _just didn't have a single fuck to give._

 _There's a fucking school dance coming up asshat, what else is it going to be about? I don't know that girl, I'm not going with her, and y'all can fuck right off outta my business._

" _She was kinda cute."_ Kenny noted, next to her, but it sounded like a reluctant sort of admittance- something he might have said out of being _expected_ to say that, not necessarily _meaning_ it.

"I-I think her name is _Emily."_ Jimmy interjected. "S-s-she and I ha-ha-have English class together. D-do you want me to talk to her for you, Dee?"

 _Nope._ Dee shook her head sharply, moving to get up and dump the empty box of milk from her tray. She was _done_ with all of this nonsense, and the dance wasn't even happening for a few more days.

 _Grit your teeth and bare it, bitch. Grit your fucking teeth and bare it._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _THE DRAMA BEGINS!_

This fic is going to be a lot of fun for me; romantic drama is usually a genre I abstain from because, well, in most works it just gets too _heavy_ for me. I know, hilarious coming from the person who _literally had her main character rotting from the inside out_ during the first installment of this series- but, you see, that's a kind of heavy I can _deal_ with. It feels _important_ enough to be heavy. When it comes to relationships, however, the solutions seem so _obvious_ to me I have trouble taking it seriously when I'm writing messy episodes of romance... but now?

Now I'm writing for South Park. I don't _have_ to take it seriously. It's _supposed_ to be utterly ridiculous.

This is gonna be fun.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	2. Miscommunication

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Miscommunication::**

"Hey, Wendy, can I talk to you?"

Kyle didn't want to do this. It really wasn't his thing, most of the time. He didn't like sticking his nose into other people's relationships. It was, he'd always told himself, _their own damn business._ And yet? Well, the simple fact was that he'd seen this cycle play out just _too many times_ to stand by and watch it happen all over again. Stan was _convinced_ something was different this time- and maybe there was? He didn't know. But his last hour was a class he shared with Wendy, and the longer he'd been sitting in the same room as her, the more he thought it really was time to _say something_ on behalf of his best fucking friend.

So, when the bell rang and everyone cleared the hell out to get to the buses and go home, he stopped her just before the door, pulling her aside as other kids continued on their way out after packing up their things.

"Oh, hey Kyle. Sure, is something wrong?"

"Well, Stan told me about you guys maybe going to the dance together." Kyle responded. "I didn't know you guys were _dating_ again."

" _Oh."_ She blinked- scoffing softly. Apparently the news wasn't supposed to be _out_ just yet. "I'm not sure if I'd call it _dating_ just yet. Stan and I have had our ups and downs, but... well, we were little kids. I feel like we've both changed a lot, and those changes might be _good._ I actually started hanging out with him right at the beginning of the year, trying to... I don't know, restart with a _friendship_ and rebuild from there. To be honest, I still haven't _decided_ about the dance. I'm worried it's moving forward too soon, before we've got a real _foundation_ to work with, you know?"

That... actually sounded incredibly well-reasoned. Then again, Wendy had always been pretty _grown up_ among everyone in their grade level. "Is he... uh, on the same page as you?"

"I know he wants to get back together." Wendy sighed, a note of _defeat_ in that. "I'm worried it's all he can think about... and now he wants to do something for the singing contest, which, of course, rushes my decision if we want _any_ time to practice."

" _Oh jeez, he's already started."_ Kyle's face fell into his hand. "This is _exactly_ what I was yelling at him about at lunch today- he's _already_ too invested, and he's going to get hurt again. Maybe Dee has the right about of all this stuff; just _ignoring_ everything."

"Dee? What did Dee ignore?" Wendy's voice suddenly went tense, perking up.

"Huh?" Why did _Wendy_ care about Dee's recent behavior. The voice she was using was _expectant_ to a certain degree, but also hesitant. _Contention_ in her tone drew a tight rubber band around a number of feelings and rose her pitch a note or two. "Uh, some girl showed up and gave Dee a note, but he wouldn't read it. He just shoved it in his pocket and glared at anyone who said he should read it."

" _He didn't read it?"_ Wendy's eyes went wide. "Oh _damnit,_ I've gotta go!"

"What? _Wait, what?_ What's up with the note? Do you know the girl who gave it to him, uh... Emily, I think? Is she gonna be heartbroken?"

" _Emily_ didn't write it, I just asked her to deliver it!" Wendy responded hurriedly, panic in her eyes as she shouldered her pack and turned from Kyle to make for the door. "Sorry, I gotta go!"

"... wait, so _you_ wrote it?!" Kyle asked to the thin air where Wendy used to be. Why would Wendy write a note to Dee and have someone else deliver it? Was...

 _Was Dee a plan-B in case she decided not to go to the dance with Stan?_ What the _hell?!_ That made it all even worse; if Wendy went with someone else, it would be like when they broke up and she started going out with Token right away! Stan was fucking devastated after that shit! Kyle felt like he needed to _do_ something with this information, but had no idea _what._ Tell Stan? No, that would just rush into all the consequences he was trying to avoid. He supposed he could try and make sure everything went well between Stan and Wendy, but what if he just made shit worse?

It seemed the only option was but one- talk to Dee and convince him that going out with Wendy was a _bad fucking plan._ No, more than a bad plan, a _terrible plan,_ a plan he'd only go through with if he wanted to _fucking ruin_ one of their friends- Dee cared enough about Stan to reconsider, right? _Right?_ Well... it was hard to tell _what_ Dee cared about, but he'd never gone out of his way to screw Stan before. Certainly he wouldn't be so _selfish_ as to wreck Stan, once he'd been warned what his actions would do, right?

Right. He just had to go and make his case, plain and simple as that.

* * *

Dee was most of the way out of the locker area when she was _crashed into_ by an unknown mass in a hurry. She figured it was some student who needed to head to the office before catching the buses or something like that, and made a quick turn and side-step to try and get herself out of the way without falling over; the weight that hit her hadn't been all that heavy. Wiry, she realized- one of the girls? Had Red or Bebe crashed into her, no doubt preoccupied with whomever they wanted to ask them to the dance and how they were going to charm them into doing so?

The person who had knocked into her recovered, and she saw it _wasn't_ one of the girls.

It was Butters, out of breath and _wide-eyed._ Panicked? Why was he so _upset?_ Or... was it something else?

"Oh, Dee!" He cried out, once the pair of them had separated, looking at her with a sudden smile that was still somewhere between exhilaration and _utter meltdown._ "I-I was lookin' for you! Ah... hey, I mean, um..." He shook his head, ruffling fingers through hair that _might_ have been combed or styled this morning, but his fingers had raked it back into a spiky mess over the course of the day.

Now that she thought about it, hadn't he been looking at her a lot today in science class? She assumed she must have been between him and some object of affection or another; Butters, after all, was _human._ No doubt he was _also_ concerned with whom to ask to the dance... but now he was looking at _her_ in a way that made her... suspicious. She cocked her head, blinking at him and briefly wondering when exactly he'd grown a couple inches taller than her.

 _Well, I'm here. Out with it before you make us both late for the bus._

"Oh, _jeez,_ I'm sorry, just..." He put his hands out for a second, a gesture asking for a grace period as he took a deep breath. "Okay. _Uh,_ I was wondering if... um. You'd go to the dance? W-With me?"

 _What? I'll repeat that, **what?** _She blinked, several times. Then several more times. She took a full ten seconds or so as she tried to _process_ what she'd just heard, lips parting a little as if she were going to speak but instead forming an expression of utter _shock._ Had she just heard what she thought she heard? Butters, asking her out. _Her!_ A person who, from his perception, _was a dude._ Yes, she'd just heard that. No matter how many times she went over it in her head, it wasn't going away.

 _Did Wendy put you up to this?_ She wondered, staring at him with wide, skeptic eyes.

"Dee! _Dee!"_

" _Oh, hamburgers-_ Listen,uh, you... you don't have to answer right away- there's still a few more days!" Butters assured, backing away as the fear began to take over. He'd pushed himself as far as his courage would go today, and someone else was calling for Dee from further up the hall. "I'll just... see you tomorrow morning! Yeah, uh... bye, fella!"

Dee was still left staring into space as Butters departed with all haste. She remained, still as a statue in the hustle and bustle of students getting their shit to get the hell out, right up until she felt a hand clap on her shoulder from behind. All at once, she came crashing back to earth and jerked around in a neat 180- and came face-to-face with Wendy.

 _Wendy. Fucking Wendy, the most recent and **only** person to express support for the idea of me being with Butters, despite the blatant dishonesty involved. _

The look on her face had a pretty clear meaning; _What the ever living fuck just happened?_

"Oh, jeez, he already asked, didn't he?"

Dee closed her eyes; just when she thought she couldn't be more surprised, she got another bucket of proverbial ice-water to the face. When she opened them, she _glared_ at Wendy with all hostility. _YOU KNEW?!_

"Don't give me that look!" Wendy protested. "You're the one who didn't read my note! I tried to warn you!"

 _Note?_ Dee's hand plunged down into the pocket of her hoodie, retrieving the forgotten thing. She'd meant to read it at home, when she'd be guaranteed a little privacy, as well as the option of _burning_ it if she were particularly perturbed by its contents. Now it appeared a grave mistake had been made in unfolding it so late in the day, and recognizing that the way her name had been written on the front had been an obvious red herring to prevent anyone from realizing Wendy was the author of the piece of paper in her hand. Within, a much more familiar script had been written out, and read thus;

 _Butters was asking me if you were single this morning, I think he's going to try to ask you out at the end of the day. I know you're still not sure about it, so you might want to make yourself scarce so you don't have to turn him down. It sounds like he's liked you for a long time, and we both know getting rejected would break his heart._

 _-Wendy_

Dee took only seconds to read the note, and then looked back up to Wendy with a deadpan stare.

 _Well, I see a really **obvious** solution to all of this. _

* * *

_Holy cow_ the hallway smelled like rotten eggs in an open sewer pipe- but Butters had bigger things to worry about right now. He'd been anxiously waiting for the end of class, unable to focus on his worksheet or his social studies textbook as the last minute ticked away. Now that the bell had rung, he had been the very _first_ student out the door and into the locker bays... and the first to get smacked in the face with the horrific reek of someone who had probably eaten one too many school burgers today.

 _C'mon buddy, you gotta get all your stuff and get moving- you've lost your nerve over and over today, so it's now or never!_

The internal pep-talk helped his hands move quickly, getting to his locker, twisting his combo this way and that, retrieving everything he needed to take home, and then pushing the locker closed as he dashed down the hall and into the mass of people that populated it. He needed to find Dee! If he didn't ask him now, he was probably going to chicken out, _again!_ Just like he had after science class, and gym, and during lunch.

 _Don't be a negative Nellie! See it! See success! See it in your head and know you can do it, buddy!_

And he could, he _could_ see it in his head- somehow he knew he was going to run into Dee in this hallway, and he knew he was going to ask. It was like he had already done it, the memory alive in his head as he sprinted into the rush of his peers and glanced left and right for the signature bright blue hoodie Dee wore, or his curly, candy-red hair. He _knew_ it was going to happen, he was so _certain_ of it-!

He tripped, and crashed into someone. They moved, and he very nearly lost his feet. Scrambling, arms out to catch his balance with his heavy pack on his back, he let out a nervous laugh as he regained himself and looked back. _This is it,_ he told himself, _this has got to be it, this feels right, like it's already happened!_

Turning and looking, he saw... Token.

"Hey, man, slow down!" Token called out warmly, letting out a good natured chuckle. "If you keep running like that, you're gonna hurt yourself."

"Oh, uh, _sorry!"_ Butters cried out, confused and feeling disoriented. Had he hit his head? He had to blink, like clearing away the after-image of a bright light to get his vision back to seeing things that were _actually_ there. How had he been so certain the person he had crashed into was Dee? He'd felt it, _known it,_ and then it hadn't been true. "Uh... h-have you seen Dee?"

"Dee? Sorry, dude, I haven't seen him since lunch. Don't you guys ride the same bus home, though?"

"Oh, _hamburgers,_ you're right!" Butters felt a flare of _hope_ run high in his chest, like his heart fluttering little wings that tickled his ribs. "Thanks, I gotta go!"

Little did Butters know, but just as he sprinted down the hall, someone else was jogging up to the same place, with the same feelings of certainty of a memory that had already occurred. It was a fresh print in the mind of another individual, but she appeared much more prepared for when the sense of de'ja'vu turned out to be a ghost of something that never was. She arrived to the same point, where Token was standing with a look of confusion on his face, and approached to ask a question he'd been asked only a moment ago.

"Hey, Token?" Wendy quested. "Have you seen Dee today?"

"Huh? Oh, hey." Token shook his head, slightly spooked by Wendy arriving so quietly and without fanfare- then again, noisy hallways were noisy. "Funny you should ask that, Butters just asked me the same thing. I haven't, though, sorry; which is weird, we have last hour together. I know I saw him at lunch... maybe he went home early?"

"... I'm guessing he did _exactly_ that." Wendy agreed with Token's theory, but she didn't sound satisfied. In fact, she sounded rather _sour_ about it, maybe even _disappointed._ "Thanks, Token. I'll see you later."

"No problem?" Token answered in a befuddled tone that didn't seem to understand what had just happened in this hallway, watching as Wendy proceeded with much less haste than Butters had been expressing. "Man, Dee sure is popular today..."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

DEE THAT IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE USE OF TIME TRAVEL.

ALSO THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT READING NOTES PASSED TO YOU RIGHT AWAY.

*ahem*

 _Onwards!_

 _-Buttlord_


	3. Little Victories

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Little Victories::**

[Received, 3:10] REALLY?  
[Received, 3:10] YOU UNDID HALF A DAY JUST TO GET OUT OF TURNING BUTTERS DOWN  
[Received, 3:11] I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW

To be entirely fair, Dee hadn't _meant_ to hop back half of the day- only fifteen minutes or so. Just long enough that she would have been able to ask for a bathroom pass from her Math class and camp-out in the boy's restroom until such time as school was over and the buses were loaded and ready to go, and then she could have 'missed' the bus due to gut trouble and taken one of the regular bus-lines home... instead, she'd ended up utilizing a trick where she took a selfie during passing time, used the tags to complain about feeling ill, and then tagged the school nurse, Ms. Merryweather. Not five minutes into fourth hour, she'd been called into the health office where her mother was already waiting to take her home... with a lecture that she _really_ needed to stop using that gambit to get out of school.

That was the trouble with ripping time when she was upset or angry, her accuracy wasn't so great.

[Sent, 3:14] Says the person who send me a NOTE. You could have texted me. I would have gotten the message properly, then.

Grumpily, Dee dropped her phone back on the surface of the desk in her room- her mother's punishment for using the selfie trick was being sent to her room until dinner time. No going out after school, no hanging out with friends... but she still had her devices, at least. Plenty of games on her computer, plenty of people to text, but none of it seemed all that _interesting_ at the moment.

No, she was worrying about Butters. Why now? Why _her?_ She supposed it was good that he was willing to step outside of his box to ask someone out who didn't fit into his schema of _normal,_ but it didn't change the fact that the whole damn thing was a _farce._ A _lie,_ misinformation upon misinformation that she _couldn't_ correct without it chaining into greater social consequences. Butters was a sweet, kind, thoughtful boy... but he was shit at keeping secrets- _particularly_ from Cartman, who no doubt had his hooks in the kid to this very day.

 _It's all so fucking stupid and pointless. I shoulda just dealt with it and turned him down flat. The longer this goes on, the more he's gonna get his fuckin' hopes up._

Her phone buzzed against her table with another barrage of texts. Flipping the square of plastic up, the notifications confirmed they were from Wendy.

[Received, 3:17] Well... about that.  
[Received, 3:17] I might have done something dumb earlier today that got my phone taken away.  
[Received, 3:18] I thought I was being discreet, but the math teacher noticed me texting under the table and made me hand it over.

[Sent, 3:19] Lemme guess, you and Stan?

More evidence to this whole _romantic fever_ taking over the school being a corner stone of what Dee termed in her head as the _Stupid Virus._ It morphed and changed from season to season, using different guises to infect as many minds as possible, but it have some trusty vectors that never went out of vogue. Teen drama by way of crushes was perchance the Stupid Virus's most stalwart companion throughout the ages.

[Received, 3:20] I know I could have come over and TALKED to you during lunch, but if I had said it in front of the guys I have no doubt Butters would have suffered for it...  
[Received, 3:20] And if I had pulled you aside, Stan would have gotten insecure.  
[Received, 3:21] This close to a school event, every little thing is burdened with so much *meaning*

 _Fucking tell me about it._

[Sent, 3:22] Alright, you're forgiven. But I still stand by my decision to get the hell outta there. The whole reason you warned me was so I could *avoid* Butters anyway

A prolonged pause in the conversation. Dee detected an ulterior motive that was revealed a moment later.

[Received, 3:25] Well, I was really hoping that if you had the whole afternoon to think about it, you might say yes.  
[Received, 3:26] Butters can be a really sweet guy when he's not marching to someone else's stupid tune  
[Received, 3:26] I thought you two might be good for each other, in that way. You'd have the right to protect him, and he might get you to come out of your shell a little bit.

 _Goddamnit Wendy, are you fucking kidding me right now? You're playing **matchmaker?**_

[Sent, 3:27] First, please don't meddle in my lack of a love life. I like it the way it is.  
[Sent, 3:27] Second, what shell?

In the time waiting for a response, a knock came at Dee's door that surprised her, making her quickly lock her phone and drop it on her desk with a little _gasp_ as her head twisted 'round, the rest of her swivel chair following after as her feet came from tucked beneath her butt to be on the floor.

" _Hey, champ?"_ It was her father's voice, projected through cheap plywood. _"One of your friends is here with the homework from the classes you missed. I'm gonna open the door, okay?"_

Ten-second pause which was meant to give her time to locate her favorite sweater and pull it on- unnecessary at this moment, she was still wearing it. Still, it was good procedure and she was glad her parents followed it. At the end of that allotted time, the door cracked open to first reveal her dad, and then... Kyle? That hadn't been who she was expecting. No, she assumed it would have been Kenny, someone _else_ who had been through enough temporal hiccups to detect them the moment they occurred.

"Hey, Dee, I figured you could use your assignments from the day- don't wanna fall behind, right?"

 _Right... the fuck are you doing here? I don't think you've ever come alone to my house outside the context of the games we played as kids. It's always been with the others for a study group, or to play the latest hot release because my dad makes the best snacks... why are you here?_ Dee's blank stare, a trademark at this point in her life, remained even and directed at Kyle, trying to suss out for what purpose he might have decided to come over with what was a _paltry_ offering at best. Really? Her afternoon assignments? She'd only blinked away that reality a few hours ago, and she still remembered those classes being boring reading capped off by simple worksheets that could easily wait until she returned to school the next day.

"Alright, buddy, I know mom said you were in trouble, but I'm gonna let your friend stay long enough to explain your schoolwork to you, okay? Lemme know if you guys need anything." Dad said, though his warm tone assumed that Kyle was paying a social visit more than anything, and that he totally thought he was helping his kid get away with having a friend over despite being on room-arrest by the orders of Mom. "And remember, _door open."_ His final reminder was called out over his shoulder as he turned and headed back downstairs, leaving Kyle in the doorway.

"Your dad is pretty cool, dude." Kyle observed, taking a tentative step in and looking around. Dee's walls were covered with all sorts of stuff, reflecting her various interests. She still had some of the old LARP gear from when they played their rather complex games as kids, posters for games and shows she liked, and plenty else on display. He seemed genuinely curious for a few seconds before he refocused on her, and seemed to find some kind of resolve that reminded him _why_ he was here. "So... uh, I need to talk to you about Wendy."

 _Wendy? … don't tell me she's been trying to arrange a match for you, too._

"Listen, I know you got a note from her today. I don't think she meant to tell me, but she did. I also know she's on the fence about Stan."

Dee blinked. Well, that suddenly took a left turn. _Wait, what?_

"And I get it if you _like her,_ but I need to remind you how bad Stan got the _last time they did this-_ do you remember? He was a fucking mess, and I... he's my best friend. I really hate to see him like that, and I think I'd feel guilty forever if I didn't at least _talk_ to you before you did something that would hurt him. So, if Wendy asks you to the dance, I want you to say no to her. For Stan."

 _Pillsbury Dough-boy in the middle of a gang rape, that is the last fucking thing on my mind._ Dee was unsure if the confusion on her face could _get_ any more pronounced than it already was, but Kyle appeared not to be detecting it. Raised brows and wide eyes appeared to say _Sure, keep talking_ to him rather than _I have no fucking clue what you're on about._

"Ugh, this feels so _stupid._ I try not to get involved in this crap, y'know? I make a _point_ of it, sometimes, but... man, I just don't wanna see him broken up like that again."

 _Dude, you can stop, I get it. He's your bestie. Basically your brother. If you keep going on about it though, it starts to sound like you're talking about your **boyfriend,** and that's something you need to talk over with **him,** okay? _Dee found it appropriate to get up out of her office chair, taking the step up to Kyle and patting him on the back- it seemed like he could use a little encouragement. Once she did, he looked at her and blinked a few times.

"You get it, huh? That's... wow, I wasn't expect it to be that easy. Stan fights for Wendy like she's the center of his world. You just let it go like that? Just like that?"

 _Hard to hold onto something I didn't have, buddy._

"Jeez, I thought I was going to have to get mad or something. Sorry if I came off super dramatic, dude. Oh, shit- your assignments. It's nothing major, I just... needed an excuse to come over. Sorry about that."

 _Text me next time. It's easier. You have my fucking number._ Dee accepted the thin folder of papers he'd brought with him with her free hand, nodding along as she transferred them to under her arm. She'd put them on her desk in a moment, where her phone had buzzed a number of times. No doubt it was Wendy demanding a response of some kind to whatever new accusation she'd just leveled with all eloquence afforded to her on the medium that was SMS.

"Right, ah... I'm gonna... _go?"_

 _You do that, Kyle._ She nodded again, a faint smile picking up on her face as she gave him one last pat on the back, encouraging him to depart in mildly good spirits. He still seemed confused, _befuddled_ even, slipping from her grasp and backing toward the door before finally turning around to walk away.

She felt as if he still didn't trust her on this subject. Perchance he'd felt it had been too easy? Then again, why wouldn't it have been easy? Dee didn't _have_ an interest in Wendy at the moment- least, not a romantic one. No denying Wendy was quite cute, intelligent, and one hell of a go-getter... but she just wasn't the sort of person Dee _went_ for.

Then again, who _did_ she go for? A question that brought a faint sigh out of her lungs, stepping up to close the door behind Kyle and return to her afternoon in solitary.

* * *

" _He- what?"_

"Yeah, Butters asked me out. Wendy tried to warn me with that stupid note that got passed to me during lunch, but I didn't _read_ it, so I didn't know, and I didn't wanna break his heart by saying _no,_ so I undid it."

Dee had not been given permission to leave the house... but that didn't stop her from doing so anyway. Waiting until she heard her parents go to sleep, she simply snuck out to see someone she actually _wanted_ to hang out with... Kenny. The pair had met in his back yard, indulging in a favorite activity whenever she was pissed off or frustrated with the world; picking up and throwing random heavy, broken shit in his yard to see who could lob it the furthest from a line drawn in the snow. The noise didn't bother anyone in this part of town, and his parents were often too busy yelling at each other or too intoxicated in some manner to notice the pair of teens hefting and tossing wrecked pieced of scrap in the fenced area behind the house.

Tonight was an oddly clear night. No cloud cover, with a full moon and stars that winked from across the void of space. _Peaceful,_ but Dee found herself incapable of appreciating it for more than a few seconds before she went right back to being pissed off about _everything_ that went down today. Gloved hands closed around the handles of a long-empty propane tank, swinging it back, forward, back again, and then releasing it to arc through the air before bouncing once in the snow, rolling, and coming to a stop... _just_ an inch past the print that Kenny's last throw had left behind.

" _Seriously? She wrote you a note? Why didn't she text you?"_ Kenny quested, retrieving the propane tank and carrying it back to step up to the line he'd drawn near the back of his house. They always threw _away_ from the house, just in case something went further than expected. Noise was one thing, property damage was another.

"Heh- there's the funny part- _she got it taken away-_ texting Stan!"

" _What?! Fuck, she's got it bad- I don't remember the last time she got her phone taken away during class."_ Kenny's throwing style was a little different, spinning himself around and around like a shot-put thrower before releasing the can to soar through the air and beat Dee's last throw by at least a foot. " _HA!"_

"Ooooh, little victories, Kenny- little victories. I wouldn't celebrate so soon." She smirked, taking the walk to grab the thing once more. "And apparently she let it slip to Kyle that she wrote me the note, so he came over to my house after school and got on my case for... I don't know, _stealing Wendy from Stan?_ I don't have a _goddamn_ clue, and it's just so fucking _stupid._ I just... I can't. Why are they all _like_ this? I mean... Butters, I guess. Sure. He's been into me for a _long ass time_ and is just coming around to the idea that it's _okay_ to be into guys _,_ but the others? _Chuck-E-Cheese pegging the Easter Bunny,_ it's pure insanity."

Arriving at the tank they'd been tossing, she lifted it up onto her shoulder instead of carrying it back awkwardly at knee level. Kenny watched her return, the occasional cloud of foggy breath getting expelled from the opening in his hood. _"I donno... I get it. It's nice to have someone to talk to. To be with."_

She blinked. _Oh good God, not you, too?_ "I... I guess." She conceded, not wanting to rip into _him,_ though she felt the urge to do so just on principal. Even here, where they were _mostly_ assured of privacy, minus the occasional hobo, she tended to keep her voice down. Karen sometimes wandered out here, wondering where her big brother was when she couldn't sleep. _Best not to get riled up and start yelling, I'll get myself into trouble._ "I just don't get why everyone has to be so _dumb_ about it. Why does every tiny thing have to _mean_ so much right now? Who talks to who, who gets notes passed to them, who sits next to that girl, who bumped into that guy- it's all just so... _ugh!"_

" _We sit next to each other. Pretty much every day."_

She blinked. She had made it back to the line, the tank still up on her shoulder, carried as if it weighed very little. At that specific second, it weighed _nothing._

 _Are we talking about this? Right now?_

Again, she blinked at him. Once, twice, thrice, but he didn't move on from the subject. He kept quiet, awaiting some kind of response- either recognizing that it meant something, or telling him it meant nothing.

"... did you... want to... ask me?" She finally managed, each word dripping from her mouth with the same haste one saw from cold molasses dripping from a bottle. She skipped over admitting anything, and went straight for a question that addressed the horrible feeling that overtook her and left her in a moment of burning panic- _had she upset him with what she'd been saying?_

Silence. Uncomfortable. Awkward. He'd opened a can of worms that neither of them were eager to stick their hands into, but now they _had_ to, each in turn.

" _I thought about it."_ He admitted.

"Thought about it." She parroted back numbly. _He'd thought about it._ The one guy she might have said _yes_ to had _thought about it._ "... and?"

" _And I can see it going one of two ways. Either you end up having to come out as a girl, or the school gets to suddenly 'discover' that I'm 'actually' bi. Either way, Cartman pitches a fit, and either one or both of us gets thrown out of the usual group."_

She blinked. When he said _I can see it going one of two ways,_ she assumed he was speaking to the outcome of them dating, that it would either go well or poorly... but he didn't speak to that. He predicted the reactions of those around them, how it would effect their status among their friends... and he made a damn good point, too. Cartman _would_ pitch a fit, either of them being too gay together, or because he couldn't take having a vagina in his general vicinity. Stan and Kyle were wild cards; it would depend entirely upon how the information was presented to them, and whether or not either of them felt threatened in some way... though Kyle might decide to accept them just to piss of Cartman, and Stan would follow suit if that was the case.

What about everyone else, though? It would change the social landscape for them both at school, in different ways depending on which way they went about it. Kenny would take the majority of the heat if they just decided to be 'gay' together, and she knew he could take it without flinching... but then there was the other consideration.

What if she finally came out? To everyone? What if she and Kenny showed up to the dance, and she was there dolled up and dressed to the nines? The idea was enticing, to a certain extent. A form of gender expression, to preform the gender she actually identified with in the way of clothes and feeling pretty, that she'd been entirely barred from for _years..._ suddenly opened. It would be dramatic, make a huge splash... but the thought still _terrified her._

She put the propane tank down in the snow.

"... I'm not sure I'm ready... to... uh... _go public._ In either direction."

She felt bad, watching as he nodded with a solemn note to his posture. This was an unusual side of Kenny to see outside of the Mysterion persona- so thoughtful, so quiet... and yet, she got to see it more often than she saw the kid who yelled for joy whenever the subject of _boobies_ came up in a conversation. They were one in the same, but a lot of _thought_ had been provoked of late.

Maybe they were both infected with the Stupid Virus- just a different strain. One that pushed more towards introspection while also trapping them in this awkward limbo land of _what the hell do we do about these feelings?_

" _Maybe not public, then?"_

She heard a different tenor, a touch of _want_ that increased the tension in his tone. The way he _looked_ at her had made a decision; _he wasn't backing down._ Instead, his hands lifted to pull his hood back, clearing his mouth to speak clearly and letting his hair come shining into the moonlight like a thousand silver strands. Then, as a final gesture, he held his hand out to her.

"Dance with me."

She was dumbfounded at the invitation, blinking at his outstretched hand. It felt _silly,_ but so _heartfelt-_ without the hood in the way she could see the way he smiled at her, a little thing that dared to hope that she'd accept what he offered... that they could do this, where no one had to see, or know, or talk about it. That this could belong to _them,_ no one else, all as their breath made little clouds in the cold.

She mustered her courage... and reached out for his gloved hand. In an instant, he pulled her in, and they were together in a new way. Not just partners, always standing side-by-side.

No, they were chest-to-chest, and she swore she felt her heart beating off of his ribcage through all the layers of warm clothes.

"I warn you- I'm not very good."

He laughed, letting out that sweet giggle of his. "It's okay." He promised. "Me neither."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

FUCK ME IT'S CUTE.

I hAD TO REWRITE THIS CHAPTER LIKE FOUR TIMES.

There actually was a LOT more drama in the first runs I attempted, but it just didn't _flow..._ and now this part did, and, well... behold the ship, it sails. Quietly. _Secretly._ It's a stealthy ship.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	4. Dee Doesn't Sing

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Dee Doesn't Sing::**

 _Holy shit she's squishy._

It may not have been a romantic thing for Kenny to notice, but it was the _first_ thing he noticed as he'd pulled Dee in close to himself- the fact that beneath layers of cold-weather clothes, there was a defined area of _squish_ on her chest; an area of _soft_ that made him realize that yes, she did actually have breasts. They'd been hypothetical up until this point for him, something he _assumed_ existed without having seen- well, that wasn't quite true. Technically, he and half a lunchroom of his peers _had_ seen them... in an aborted timeline. He might have had a fuzzy dream or two that revisited those memories, but nothing that remained clear after waking up. Then there were gym classes, where Dee had somehow managed to find a way to wear a T-shirt without appearing feminine in the chest area at all- he'd asked about it, only to learn about the black magic that was a _binder,_ and how it allowed people with breasts to present as male without _suffocating_ themselves to a terrible degree.

Even now, the exact size and shape was a mystery, but one he couldn't help thinking about in the first few seconds before she clumsily took the lead in a waltz without music. It was surprise- he hadn't expected her to know the steps. Dee had always been the _bruiser_ between them, butch and masculine and _brutal._ The idea that she had, at any point in her life, learned the simple one-two-three grace of a waltz didn't quite gel with what he knew of her.

But that was part of why all of this was happening- there was more than what he knew, and he _wanted_ to know. Curiosity was as much his drive as gold 'ol fashioned teenage hormones on the rise. This _person,_ a puzzle to everyone else in their social sphere, had chosen to be open with _him._

That had meaning. He had to believe it did.

She tripped, and their dancing stuttered to a brief halt. _"Fuck, sorry."_ She muttered, but all he could do was _grin_ at her as she looked down and tried to remaster her feet. Then she looked up, saw that grin, and served him a severe glare that couldn't fully overwrite the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "... _what?"_

"You're cute." He reported simply, nose and chin feeling _entirely_ too cold... but the moment he had this idea, he'd had the craziest thought that _maybe, just maybe,_ if he did this _just right,_ she might want to kiss him- and if he somehow got lucky enough for that, he didn't want anything in the way of a wayward urge that might get quashed down in the seconds it would take to adjust his hood out of the way.

Would she let him kiss her? Kenny didn't often find himself feeling nervous about doing _anything,_ whether it risked life, limb, or dignity, but _that_ had found itself on the short list of things that _did._

" _Shuttup."_ She mumbled as her head turned off to the side, a fist balling up behind his back to drive into his side; a halfhearted kidney punch that did very little but signal him that she wasn't _used_ to being admired. All the same, she began again, leading him- which he didn't mind. Whomever had taught her, they'd taught her how to lead, not to follow... and that didn't surprise him all that much.

"... thanks." She added after about a minute that passed without major incident, though neither of them could manage to _look_ directly at each other. They were close to one another, none of that _room-for-Jesus_ shit going on, and somehow looking each other in the eyes was just... _too intimate._ He'd look down, get a glimpse of her eyes, and feel like he had to look away lest his _face caught on fire._ When he managed to hang on for a split second longer, it seemed she was taken by the same affliction. Something was there, passing back and forth between them in a game of emotional hot-potato, and neither of them knew what they'd do if they ended up being caught with the supposed _ball._

"For what?" He asked after a few moments more- was she thanking him for the compliment? Because he wasn't sure.

"For... _this."_ She answered, face off to his left side. He could see her upper row of teeth, raking over her lower lip, biting down and softly chewing on the words she was trying to say. "... it was a good idea. It... _feels real_ when it's just us. _Genuine."_

 _No one to preform for, no one to judge_. He never considered that was her concern- it was _never_ his. He did what he wanted, no matter who was watching. _Peer pressure_ stopped being a thing at a certain point in his life and it just never took hold again... but more often than not, no one was _looking_ at him. No one tended to _care_ or _remember,_ outside his little sphere of friends, and even then... he ended up forgotten more often than not, and not just in the supernatural ways of everyone forgetting every time he kicked the bucket. He could be completely absent in conversation, and no one would call for his opinion or recognize that he hadn't spoken. He could just _disappear_ for a few days, and get nothing more than an _'oh, hey, you're back'_ upon return from both friends and family.

But her? She was always on the radar for everyone. A million strangers were watching her every online move, and she demanded attention in the real world as well. She had a _presence_ that simply got everyone to look at her... whether she wanted it or not.

He never realized it until this exact second, but that had to be _fucking exhausting._ Where was the line between the face she put on to keep the world out, and the person she was behind it? Did _she_ even know?

"Heh... Whenever you need someone to be alone with, I'm your guy." He offered, half smirking as he tried to put a playful note on it.

"... but it's a secret." She murmured, sounding a little guilty. She hadn't shifted her face from it's turned-away position as they swayed back and forth, a classic three-step waltz defaulting into an easier two-step shuffle that had them slowly turning in a circle in the snow.

 _He'd decided._ He was going to risk it.

His head bent, and with all the grace of a toddler he managed to land an uncertain kiss on her cheek. It was over fast, so much so that he was uncertain if he'd _actually_ made contact with her cheek before he hastily pulled back... But she suddenly stopped, and her head turned upwards to face him, and he _knew_ he'd done what he'd done. There was no taking it back. Finally, after so much avoidance, they were _looking_ at each other. Eye color disappeared beneath moonlight, but her gaze still _shined_ in a way that made him experience something that was best likened to _awe._

He offered a smile, but it felt about as certain as that kiss had been. In his gut, butterflies whipped up a storm of anxious energy. "Secrets are okay with me." He told her. "That's most of my life."

She was quiet, _thinking._ She didn't look away again, though, so that was a plus... or so he thought. Instead, she looked at him, studying his face in detail, as if she meant to memorize every little thing as gears spun within her head. She was calculating the risks, weighing the rewards, questioning what _she wanted-_ he could see it all, written on her face. Years of exposure had made him an expert in the language of her expressions, this quirk of her eyebrow holding curiosity, that tug of her lips showing doubt.

"Okay." She finally agreed, quietly. Then, again, with a little more oomph, _"Okay._ Yeah... We... we can do this." She nodded, sounding as if she were trying to talk herself into believing that more than anything. " _Fucking spicy dick milk,_ we are like real super-heroes, down to the secret fucking relationships to go with the secret identities... Um... I guess this means I should _tell you_ something."

Tell him something? Kenny was curious, but also worried. Just how many secrets did Dee have? More than he'd guessed, that was for sure. As soon as she had decided, she leaned up to him, standing up on her toes to get in close and whisper something in his ear.

Quietly, secretly, she told him her _name._

* * *

The next day, Dee found herself in a much better _mood_ than usual. She awoke early enough to go to her mother and express an apology for using her abilities to get out of school, and arrived at the bus stop with nothing short of a _chipper_ smile on her face... one that was helped along by the fact that _Cartman_ never showed up to the stop. Was he sick today? She didn't care; one less thing for her to deal with on this, possibly the most _positive_ morning she'd experienced in a long time. Kenny, of course, joined her early at the stop... though they both kept a certain _distance,_ sharing secret smiles while keeping an extra vigilant look-out for other members of the group.

The _last_ thing they needed was to be caught holding hands or otherwise. The whole _point_ of last night was that it belonged to no one else but them, and that would go out the window _real fucking fast_ if they were caught... and she _really_ needed to stop ripping time for little personal shit. The more she used her powers, the more likely some government asshole or another was going to _happen to be collecting data_ at that moment to try and figure out a blockade to the abilities that had prevented them from capturing her and her family. Her mom had talked to her about that, as had Kenny last night- overuse was dangerous. The _only reason_ the government had made a deal with her was because they _couldn't_ lock her up... but there was little doubt someone was _working_ on that. She needed to avoid helping them along.

Which meant managing her personal life by more _conventional_ means... and stealing the little bashful smiles when she could.

When Stan and Kyle arrived, the conversation was all about _Wendy;_ namely that she'd given Stan an counter-offer on his suggestion that they do a duet for the singing contest. All of her girlfriends wanted to do a group piece, but they needed a couple of guys to fill out all the different parts- apparently to do a song from a musical called _Grease._ It wasn't quite as romantic as them being alone on the stage together, but it still sounded like Stan was plenty excited for it, and it also meant that he and Kyle could still do something together; as part of a larger group. The sign up sheets would be up in the lunchroom _today._

The bus ride was full of similar buzz; kids from all the grade levels were getting excited, discussing possible pieces, shooting ideas for choreography back and forth. Serious groups were already discussing practice spaces.

 _Well, that's one perk of not speaking- no one is gonna fucking ask **me** to sing... wonder if Kenny's gonna give it a go? _As the thought crossed her mind, near the end of the bus ride, she glanced his way. She was in her usual spot, alone on the half-seat before the emergency door at the back of the bus, with Kyle and Stan in the full seat across from her, and Kenny alone in the seat in front of them. He caught her look, and seemed to get its meaning, responding with a shrug that said _maybe, maybe not?_ It appeared he was undecided as of yet.

Arrival at school was not unlike riding a tidal wave of kids who wanted to hurry and get to the sign-up sheets in the lunch room before anyone lost their nerve and chickened out. Dee had no interest in actually _signing up,_ of course, but she found herself carried most of the way there all the same, trapped in a crowd that was already pushing in that direction. At first she resisted, trying to find a space to slip out and head on to her locker to get rid of the majority of her things before homeroom, but then she decided she might as well hang about to see who all was _actually_ putting on their names on the list vs. just _talking_ about it.

The sign up sheet was pinned to a communal bulletin board; a simple set of printed out papers with numbers on them to show where kids should sign their name, with another set of printed papers above that spelled out the words SINGING CONTEST in extra-large type. A few names were already on the first sheet, coming from kids who got rides from parents or older siblings to arrive at school before the buses, and the first people in the crowd were quick to pick up the pen pinned to the board and tied on with a string to add their own names to the list.

Chatter among students was getting _louder,_ and changing _tone,_ however. Dee sensed the change in energy, away from excitement and over to _confusion._ Whispers were spreading back, rippling around as it passed from kid to kid.

" _Huh? I never thought he'd be singing..."_

" _It couldn't be right, it must be a prank."_

" _What if he means it? Maybe he's got a great voice..."_

" _Yeah, right! It's a joke, I'll bet you!"_

Dee stuck close to Kyle and Stan, who had since found Wendy in the crowd; she was returning from the front but a... _troubled_ look on her face as she slipped through the sea of humanity that was her peers. "Hey, guys... were you coming to sign up? I already took care of it for our group." She informed Stan. "Kyle, did he talk to you about helping us out? We needed a couple more to fill out the boys' part of the song."

"Yeah, I'm in." Kyle assured. "It sounds like fun."

"Great." She nodded, but she sounded more _lost_ than enthusiastic. "Uh... Dee? Did you...?"

Dee blinked. What was Wendy asking? Surely she wasn't inviting _her_ to join into her singing group- the _last_ thing she wanted was to put her voice up for public display. Cocking her head, she gave Wendy a critical look that demanded explanation.

"Did you sign yourself up?"

 _Eh? Come again?_ Dee's head cocked further, lips pursing together as if she'd been sucking on something sour.

"Your name is up there- it's actually the _first_ name."

 _You're kidding._ Dee dropped a shoulder, turning herself sideways and abandoning her cluster of friends to shove her way past a number of others who were still waiting to get their turn with the pen. A few shouted as she shoved, making her way to the wall and looking up at the papers that hung by so many colorful tacks- sure enough, Wendy had not been lying. On the very first sheet, signed up as the very first participant, was the name _Dee._ It didn't matter that it wasn't a real name, that was what _everyone_ knew her by- teachers, students, _everyone._

She didn't do this. That wasn't her handwriting; it was block letters, written in a way that made it hard to tell who had penned it, but it _certainly_ had not been her.

Just below her name, surrounded in sloppy stars, was _Eric Cartman._

"Oh _hey, Douchebag,_ guess we're gonna be _competing,_ huh?"

Dee whipped around. Standing just next to the bulletin board was _fucking Cartman-_ and he had the most _smug_ look on his face.

 _You. You fucking asshat of asshats. What the fuck is this about?_

"Lucky for me, I know _I've_ got nothin' to worry about." Cartman stated while nonchalantly inspecting his nails, not even making eye-contact with her. "I already know you've got a _terrible_ voice- but hey, now the _whole skewl can hear it."_

 _Oh fuck- this is about me_ _ **yelling**_ _at you? Really? This is your attempt to expose me? This is stupid- I just won't show up!_

"Did you hear? Kids who sign up and then don't show get _banned_ from future _skewl_ events." Cartman added, predicting her obvious next move. "Which, I mean, I _guess_ that's cool if you just don't wanna come to _any_ events for the rest of the year- no dances, no Spring Fling- all that time with your peers you'll just _miss out on."_

 _Do I look like I fucking care?_

"Dee! Hey, _hey,_ move over, we're trying to- _ah!_ Hey- _oh."_ Kyle had fought through the crowd, Stan, Kenny, and Wendy all trailing behind him in the path he managed to clear. It got easier once he saw Dee's curly red hair off to the _side_ of the sign-up sheets, rather directly in front, allowing him to cut through a less-dense area of kids to get to her... and seeing Cartman upon arrival. "How the fuck did _you_ get here? You weren't on the bus."

"My mom drove me." Cartman explained rather simply; no doubt he'd hitched a ride to get to school before everyone else and get the first crack at the sign ups... and lay in wait until everyone else got there. "I heard you threw in with a bunch of _stupid fucking girls,_ Kyle. You're going to sink them, you know- _straight to the bottom of the charts."_

"Not even!" Kyle glared. "We're going to practice like no tomorrow and _beat your fat ass!"_

"You can try, but I'll be at the end to tell you _I fucking told you so-_ Kick this kid off of your group while you can, Wendy- Jews just don't have the rhythm. He'll ruin _everything."_

"Do I look like I asked you?" Wendy curtly quested, eyebrows raised. "Take a hike, Cartman. What are you even _doing_ here? Trying to intimidate your competition?"

"Just making sure Douchebag here knew the rules." He assured, sounding disturbingly calm. _Dee hated when he took that tone._ The one that sounded like he was perfectly in control of everything- forget pissing her off, it was sometimes _scary_ because of just how _true_ it could be. Cartman was downright _terrifying_ when he went into full chess-master mode, but forcing her into a singing contest to either show her voice to the school or get banned from events for the rest of the year? That seemed... _beneath_ him. He usually went for more hardcore humiliation than _that._

"He didn't even sign himself up!" Stan argued. "We were all on the bus with him this morning- we can all go to the office and tell them that you wrote his name up there!"

"And _disappoint_ everyone who's getting excited?" Cartman let out a short laugh. "I'll let _you_ decide how you want to play this, but I'll be _watching."_

With that, Cartman departed, removing himself from leaning on the wall and walking away.

"Sometimes, I really wonder what the _fuck_ is wrong with that kid." Kyle stated as they watched him go. "Scientifically, I mean- is there a _word_ for it? Because I feel like a team of experts should be _studying_ him to make sure it's not contagious or genetically passable."

" _You got that fucking right."_ Kenny added, stepping up to stand right behind Dee; she felt his presence, and knowing he was close made her feel a little less pissed off. She had her friends here, supporting her, ready to back her up against Cartman's bullshit. The morning didn't have to be a total loss- her good mood was still salvageable.

She just had to get through the _rest_ of the day.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _Holy wow y'all,_ glad to know Dee and Kenny have your full support.

Someone suggested that a _stealthy ship_ is actually a _submarine_ and I fucking loved that so I'm telling all of you.

It's been a long ass day. I am moved into my new home, and we have wi-fi now, but the rest of our shit from the old house doesn't arrive until mid-January. On the upside, we should have a new TV by tomorrow, so I'll be able to play the games I brought with me for our PS4, which we packed with us because we wanted it right away when we arrived. I'm looking forward to some Skyrim time to chill the hell out and let my brain relax.

Thank you all for all the amazing feedback. You're the best audience/community I could ever ask for, and I love you all. Every bit of encouragement, thought, and praise you pour out in your reviews just makes me feel so amazing and motivated. It's really helped during this super stressful time of my life. Seriously, y'all are superheroes.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	5. Advising Butters

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Advising Butters::**

" _What do you mean he can't back out?"_

Dee was fairly certain Ms. Misty's office was not made to accommodate this many students at one time, but they'd all arrived in something of a small mob despite that. With Kenny in the key advocate position at her right side, Wendy on the other, with Kyle and Stan bringing up the rear, they were a total of _five_ young teens that clustered before the school councilor's desk. Wendy had presented the original concern; that someone else had signed their friend up for an event they had no desire to participate in, and there was _no way_ Dee could have signed up since all of them had seen him on the bus. For additional argument, Dee also presented a sample of handwriting, showing that their script was quite different than the block letters scribbled on the sign-up sheet... and, at first, Ms. Misty agreed that _yes,_ it would appear that Dee did _not_ sign up.

And then she said that Dee still couldn't back out.

That was when Kenny spoke up, questioning the petite woman behind the desk.

Ms. Misty, who appeared of Asian decent but lacked any sort of first-generation accent, let something of an _exasperated_ sigh out. "Children, we are still in the _first month_ of school- and I have heard about Dee more than any other person in this school. _That's not a good thing._ It's my professional opinion that your _behavior,_ Mr. Dee, might be _improved_ but participating in school functions, such as the singing contest. Life is going to throw you curveballs all the time when you're an adult, best you start learning how to adapt _now-_ and really, all you have to do is show up. Stand on stage, let the music play, fake stage fright and let it go. _Or,_ and this _is_ a novel idea, _put a little effort into something outside your comfort zone._ It might just do you and the rest of the school some _good."_

Wendy was _gobsmacked,_ blinking at Ms. Misty with more than a touch of outrage on her face. "You're _kidding! Dee is being forced into this by a classmate who has it out for him!_ Forcing him to participate is tacit to _letting the bully win!"_

"Bullies only attack as long as there is something _to_ attack, Ms. Testaburger." Ms Misty responded coolly. "If your friend wasn't so _dedicated_ to keeping his voice hidden, _maybe_ he wouldn't become a target to those who pick on quirks."

Dee's head had been down, chewing over thoughts for several seconds while Wendy argued on her behalf. Now? Now her head snapped up, and a _glare_ was served to Ms. Misty that threatened to tare through the woman's oh-so-authoritative persona with all the messy force of a _chainsaw. You're blaming me?! Cartman is fucking acting like a_ _ **toddler**_ _with a grudge, and you're blaming ME?!_

"W-What?!" Kyle cried out. "Ms. Misty, with all due respect... that's _bull-_ you can't blame the victims of bullies for getting bullied!"

"Not at all, I'm simply pointing out that if Dee wasn't so _insistent_ on being _different,_ he wouldn't encourage those around him to pick on those differences. It's human nature to poke and prod at what isn't _normal,_ and it's much more pronounced in children."

 _You fucking- I don't do this by choice! It's a safety precaution!_ Dee's teeth were gritting together, fists balling up at her sides as she tried to contain the rising need to _lash the fuck out._ The choice not to speak was one taken out of _fear_ that talking would increase her visibility to others, on _and_ offline. That her voice might be stolen, used, _abused_ by parties who were only out for their own gain. Her image was enough to make any photo go viral, any video to take over the Facebook algorithm. _Speech_ was so much easier to capture, _manipulate,_ and misuse without her knowledge of it! _I do this to stop the wrong people from making me part of the fucking machine that is constantly trying to make everyone on this whole fucking planet into complacent sheep you stupid fuckin- **FUCK YOU!**_

The longer she thought about it, the more angry she got. There was simply a point when she _couldn't_ hold it anymore, and her body jerked forward in a _lunge._

She was arrested by both shoulders; Wendy and Kenny had both sensed her boiling over, and restrained her. She was held, suspended by two points, teeth gritted in vicious display.

" _Whoa, whoa! It's not worth it, dude!"_

"Dee, _calm down!"_

Ms. Misty didn't flinch. She sat there, staring directly at Dee for a moment before making a steeple of her fingers on the surface of her desk. The longer she remained utterly _unmoved,_ the more desperately Dee wanted to _punch her in her moronic face._ Heavy breath came out from between her clenched teeth.

"Please, I invite you." Ms. Misty finally said. "Then we can skip all the formalities and I can just _suspend_ you for striking a school official. You look pretty strong- try it, make me _bleed_ and I'll _expel_ you."

Dee blinked. _Expulsion. That would force my family to move again, to find another school for me. We'd have to start over,_ _ **a-fucking-gain,**_ _and it would be my fault._

She swallowed, and slowly, _slowly,_ relaxed back.

" _Pity."_ Ms. Misty noted. "Dee, you _will_ participate in the school singing contest as part of the festivities of the Homecoming dance, as an order of the counseling office. Failure to appear will be met with disciplinary action- do you understand?"

 _Oh yeah, I understand you victim-blaming excuse for a human being._ Sharply, Dee nodded.

"Good. Now, please kindly get out of my office."

* * *

Butters' heart sank when he didn't see Dee in science class, first thing in the morning. He _knew_ he'd seen him on the bus, but maybe he was still feeling unwell? Rumor had it that he'd gone home early yesterday due to feeling ill; had he pushed himself to come back to school only to have to go home again right away? That would _suck-_ and right before a school event, too. Either way, the seat next to Cartman's was empty, and he just _couldn't stop looking up at it_ and wondering where in the world Dee was and how he was doing.

"Hey, you still here, Butters? We got vocab to do, man."

" _Ah!"_ Jerked out of the clouds and back to earth, Butters blinked a number of times as he looked to his table and lab partner; Heidi. Her tone was deadpan, but there was still _concern_ on her face as she prodded him back to reality. "Oh, uh... _y-yes,_ I just..."

"You've got a crush." She surmised in a heartbeat, a half-smirk picking up on her face. Heidi had become a _complex_ individual over the past couple years, particularly since her relationship with Cartman. Where, while she'd been with him, she'd gotten _fat_ and _mean,_ she'd since become the girl on the _biggest_ self-improvement kick. She'd gone back to being vegan, and even ran an after school nutrition program over at the community center to help other people of all ages get healthy. More than that, she'd become a _gym rat,_ joining up with the girl's track team and boasting probably the most shapely set of hips in all of middle school due to all the muscle she'd built up as the team's head sprinter.

She was more than _physically_ hardened and lean, however. She'd gone that way emotionally, too- she was still there for people who needed help, but she'd grown more _blunt,_ faster to offer a _stiff kick in the ass_ to kids who were feeling sorry for themselves rather than kind words. She saved her understanding and sweeter attitude for people who were in the struggle, _fighting_ to change themselves.

Butters honestly liked the _old Heidi,_ the one from _before_ Cartman,better than the person she'd become now, but it was certainly better than the person she'd been _during Cartman,_ so he couldn't complain that much.

"Well... _yeah."_ He admitted. "I've been tryin' to ask somebody out, but they keep _not bein'_ where I expect them to be."

Heidi blinked, glancing up to the _only_ empty seat in class. "Dee? I thought you... y'know, liked girls. Breasts and soft skin and pretty things- that stuff."

"Dee _is_ pretty!" Butters responded, though he hid his insistence behind his textbook, picking the heavy thing to tuck his face into it. "I _know he's a boy, but I still wanna try- does that make me a bad person?"_

"Bad-?" Heidi actually let out a short bark of a laugh. "No, you're not _bad_ for admitting you might like a boy- I'd say that actually makes you more mature than most of the boys in this school. People like who they like, but you gotta make sure you know what you're signing up for. Are you sure Dee would be emotionally _healthy_ for you? The guy never _talks-_ puts a bit of a damper on that all-important _communication."_

"Oh, he does it other ways. Dee gets these _looks_ that... say stuff? Awe geez, that sounds weird, but... it's true. I don't _always_ get it, but he does _text_ people when he needs to be clear."

"Huh... I never knew. Then again, I've never really hung out with him." Heidi shrugged slightly, accepting that Butters knew more on the matter of _what kind of person Dee was_ than she did. "So what are you gonna do now? The dance is on Friday, you've got another... what, three days after today? Two days, really, if you guys wanna try and co-ordinate outfits without hitting crunch time or anything."

"W-Well, I was hoping he might... uh..." His voice drained away; the hope that Dee might just _show up today,_ out of nowhere, was a silly one and he knew it. He felt so _certain_ that they were just going to _bump into each other_ and he'd have the chance to ask, but he couldn't _explain_ why he felt so certain about that. It was just an image that kept flashing in his mind; of the perfect opportunity that would just drop into his lap. "Uh, _maybe..._ uh... I could go over to his house? M-maybe with a gift?"

"Heh, you're scrambling, calm down." She reached out, giving Butters an encouraging nudge to the shoulder. "I'd skip the gift if you go over to his house; you'll already be showing a lot of initiative by stepping out of _your_ territory and into his. Gifts are just a form of material manipulation, anyway; you should only give gifts if you don't expect anything in return- bringing one when asking a person out makes them feel _obligated."_

" _Oh!"_ Butters blinked, as if he never considered that before. "I... I just thought... well..."

" _Girls like flowers and stuffies,_ and Dee is _pretty_ like a girl, so you were going to treat him like one? _"_ Heidi smirked at him; he may have been making progress, but he was still stuck in an old way of thinking about romance. "Do me a favor Butters, if you wanna have a _healthy_ relationship, forget _everything_ TV, movies, or mainstream books have _ever_ taught you." She listed off the forms of media on her fingers, tapping each one in turn from pinkie, ring, to middle. "Dee is a _person,_ not an _idea._ It's easy to fall in love with an idea, but then you discover the person, and then they're different. _Get rid of the idea._ Whatever is in your head, whatever you've _assumed_ is going to happen? I want you to throw it out, right now."

 _Throw it out?_ He blinked at Heidi for a moment, but he supposed she knew a thing or two about this. She spoke with such _confidence,_ it was hard to argue with her. So he did as he was told- he took that _idea_ that things were just going to work out and _tossed it out._ He tried to forget about the _physical_ reason he'd been looking at Dee for all this time, from the pretty shape of his face to the way his eyes always seemed to _sparkle._ He pushed away the assumptions that, since Dee looked feminine, he would _act_ feminine, and considered why _else_ he might want to do this. "Okay, well, uh... Dee's always been very dependable. And he's always liked havin' me around- he invites me along on things when all the other guys forget me. I... I guess I feel _safe_ around him? When we go places, I feel like he's always lookin' out for me... _oh this is embarrassing..."_

"Hey, those are _good reasons_ to like someone- but remember, you _like_ Dee. You ask out someone you _like._ If you've already decided you love them, you've gotten off on the wrong foot and started with the wrong expectation. Dating is all about finding out whether you and a person work well together, not _deciding_ that you're perfect for each other and working towards a forgone conclusion." She was very _stern_ as she said that, making sure that he was looking her in the eyes as she explained. "So long as you get that, _respect that,_ you should be good to ask him- find your opportunity, and _go for it."_

" _J-just like that?"_ His nerves rose up again. "B-But... Dee's not really _super out-_ what if I embarrass him by asking in too public of a place?"

"You're asking him to a school dance." Heidi responded with a simple shrug, her lean body shifting in her chair as her legs cast out beneath the table in a wide relaxed stance, picking up her notebook and pen and giving Butters a pointed look. "It doesn't _get_ much more public than that. If he can't say yes to you where people can see you guys, he's not exactly ready to dance with you in the middle of a school event, is he? If everyone thinks of you as straight, and _you_ can muster up the courage to _ask him,_ then he should be able to be brave enough to meet you in the middle if this is gonna work _at all._ If he's worried about his image, he can just say no... and other people in the school, both boys and girls, are gonna see that _you_ were strong enough to try. That kind of attitude is pretty sexy, Butters, doesn't matter what your genitals look like."

 _People would think he was brave, even if he got shot down?_ That was an novel thought; people, thinking _he_ was brave, _noticing_ him for something he did _right._

"Just don't come on _too_ strong- or else people will think you're an _asshole._ You're asking, not _telling."_ Heidi added, beginning to work on her vocab terms again.

"O-oh... _right."_

 _How do you tell?_ He wondered to himself, though he supposed that was something he was supposed to _feel out_ to a certain extent. Either way, she had provided him with a great deal of advice, which actually made him just a little bit _thankful_ that he didn't see Dee in class right now. If he _was_ sick today, it gave him the chance to re-work his game plan and figure out how he wanted to do this.

The door to the classroom opened- everyone heard the heavy portal move, and several students looked to see who was interrupting the chatter of work-time.

 _WHAT?! HE'S HERE?!_

Panic shot through Butters' mind as Dee came through the door, looking like he was having _the worst goddamn morning_ and clutching a note from the main office that no doubt excused his lateness. He reported to Ace, the teacher at the front, to hand over his note before taking the walk of shame back to his seat where Cartman was waiting with bells on.

 _What am I supposed to do NOW?! If he's here, I've got the chance, but-_

"Looks like your lucky day." Heidi noted dryly.

"I... _I'm not sure I'm ready yet..."_

"And while you're waiting to _be_ ready, someone _else_ might ask him out." Heidi punted back with no mercy. "Are you gonna let him get away? You've got about _ten minutes_ left in this hour, and then we all walk out that door and your next opportunity will be gym class- _in between which any_ _ **number**_ _of other students might try."_

"B-but- not... not that many people are interested in him?" Butters tried to deflect. Wendy had said that yesterday.

"Doesn't take all that many, _just one."_ Heidi sighed, as if he were an _utterly_ lost cause while tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's no skin off my back if you don't ask him, Butters, but... well, you seem to _really_ like him. Shouldn't you _try?_ You'll only have yourself to blame if you _don't._ It's scary, sure... but the scary stuff is important."

She was right. _He knew she was right._ That was one thing about the new person Heidi had grown into- she was always good for advice, even if it was stuff no one wanted to hear.

Mustering his courage, Butters decided it was time. _Now or never_ he told himself, standing up from his chair and walking up the aisle. No one noticed him, or looked- no, there was a pencil sharpener at the front of the room, plenty of kids walked up and down the spaces between the tables as needed. It wasn't until he _stopped_ at someone else's table that a few surrounding kids took note; Bebe glanced back, and then glanced again, tapping her table partner to peek as well. Craig took brief note, but quickly returned to his work once he figured it had nothing to do with him.

Finally, mercifully, Dee realized someone was standing over him and _looked up._ He blinked a few times, eyebrows rising up into the curly trusses that covered his forehead as he addressed Butters with his eyes.

 _Really pretty green eyes._ Butters just about lost his nerve, swallowing and nearly ducking away, but _somehow_ managing to hold his ground.

"H-Hey, uh, Dee. Um..."

 _Deep breath, little buddy. You can do it._

"Would you go to the homecoming dance with me?"

 _Silence_ took hold. More people were looking. They were all but _on display_ as Dee stared up at him, utter surprise taking over his face. He either had not expected the question, or he just wasn't prepared to answer.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Butters, Douchebag isn't _gay."_ Cartman reproached from next to Dee, getting a _seriously_ look on his face in less than an instant.

" _Shuttup!"_

There was no _direct_ identifying exactly whom had hissed at Cartman, but a balled-up piece of paper had most _definitely_ been thrown from Tweek's general direction, hitting Cartman in the back of the head.

" _'EY! Miss teacher, someone threw something at me!"_

Ace arrived on the scene as Cartman distracted the general company of the class, focus shifting away from where Butters had stopped to attempt to make his offer, and where Dee _still_ hadn't looked away from him. Really, Butters wasn't _hearing_ what was going on in the rest of the classroom after Cartman's original attempt to tell him he was barking up the wrong tree. No, he'd decided he was doing this, and he _wasn't going to move_ until Dee had given him some kind of response.

"It's... it's okay if you say no." He added, swallowing again. He felt his body beginning to tremble, but more and more noise was building up around Cartman. People weren't _looking_ at them anymore. "Or if you need time to think about it- I... I just... _wanted to ask."_

Dee continued to stare, and blink, and stare. Then, finally, with only a single backwards glance towards the commotion that was beginning to form between Cartman, Craig, and Tweek, he stood up and motioned Butters to follow him towards the back of the classroom. Surprised, he nodded, and the pair of them distanced themselves from where Ace was trying to regain control of the class. With their backs turned, Dee drew out his phone, typing up a quick message.

 _I need a little time to think. I'll message you later tonight, okay?_

 _He's going to think about it? Holy hamburgers in the sky, he's going to think about it!_

Butters could have jumped for joy- it was a _maybe,_ but somehow that felt amazing after what he'd just done.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUN_

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	6. It's Gonna Be a Long Ass Day

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – It's Gonna be a Long-Ass Day::**

Wendy didn't believe that Ms. Misty was acting on her own motivations for a _second._

No, Cartman's smugness had been _so overwhelming_ that morning, she was certain that he'd gone and rigged everything to go against his chosen rivals. Kyle, who was the usual target when Cartman got a bee in his bonnet... and, for some reason, Dee. She supposed it wasn't _that_ odd, it wouldn't be the first time Cartman had gone out of his way to try and push Dee's buttons, but the simple fact was that the kid just didn't compete with the same kind of _headspace_ Cartman devoted to one-upping Kyle all of the time.

What had changed? What had Dee done that had earned enough to Cartman's ire to shove the girl into shared spotlight of one of Cartman's plots? No doubt Kyle was still the main billing, he always was, but _somehow_ Dee had found herself in this, too, to the point that a certain fatass had taken control of a school councilor.

Was it bad that her first thought at all of this was _'This looks like a job for Callgirl'?_ She hadn't said that particular line in a year or two, and it suddenly made her feel a touch old. Either way, everything started with a bit of reconnaissance; Cartman might have let something slip on his own social media, and she could dig up a lot of information on Ms. Misty before the school day was over. After that, a call to a certain _PC Super_ to mention _certain non-inclusive comments_ would produce some quick leverage on her side of the table for an interrogation. If she acted quickly, she'd hopefully have some answers before she had to meet everyone after school to practice their song for the contest.

All that planning, and she was only part-way through second hour. _Cripes_ this day felt like it was going slow. It didn't help that Cartman was in this class with her, _loudly humming scales_ and casually mentioning to anyone within ear-shot that _oh, yes, I am going to sing in the contest,_ like he was some kind of up-and-coming celebrity. What was that kid _up to?_ So much _posturing_ just _screamed_ he was up to something.

"Wendy, did you hear? Butters asked Dee out."

Wendy blinked, turning her head slightly and remembering that she'd been sitting with Stan this whole time- much as she was _unlucky_ to share this class with Cartman, she was very lucky to share it with Stan, and the teacher had let them pick their own partners for work time today. With Stan on her side of the _Ms. Misty_ issue, thinking that Cartman had something on the woman to make her act so _inappropriately,_ he'd decided not to sit with the fatass today and instead pull a chair up next to her. "Huh? Oh, yeah, Bebe told me about it, but it sounds like Butters didn't get an answer."

"I heard Tweek started a fight when Cartman tried to scare Butters off." Stan replied with a smirk. "Pip said the class was like a riot... do you think Dee would go with him?"

"Dee's pretty shy, he might not be ready." Wendy mused. "But I hope they go together. I think Butters would be good for him." She nodded smartly, pulling herself out of her own plans and schemes to turn her attention to the hand-out they'd gotten to go with today's reading. "Dee is a bit of a _hothead."_

"You really hang out with him a lot, huh?" Stan observed.

" _So?"_ Wendy inquired with disinterest.

"So, you guys hang out a lot. You probably know more about Dee than me and the guys do, and that's kinda... _weird_ when a girl knows more about a guy than his guy-friends, unless the girl is his _girlfriend,_ and-"

 _Oh good Christ here we go._ Wendy had been dreading this since the _note incident_ yesterday. She let slip that _one little thing_ around Kyle, oh-so-concerned Kyle, and suddenly Stan's insecurity was in hyper-drive over someone he didn't need to be worried about. Not only was it silly for him to be worrying about Dee just because he was supposedly a _dude,_ and that _specifically_ made him pose a threat, it was even dumber that Kyle had no doubt _warned_ his best friend about a possible rival when what had happened yesterday had been nothing more than a silly little misunderstanding.

She decided right away, she wasn't going to let Stan dance around the issue. She was going to cut right to it, right now.

"What did Kyle say to you?"

" _Kyle?"_ The note of surprise in Stan's voice was the first warning klaxon that she'd made a misstep. "Kyle hasn't said _anything_ to me... _should_ he have?"

 _Shit. Over-correction, shoulda let him finish talking._ She knew the mistake as soon as she made it. She'd meant to head-off any sort of self-damning train of thought before it could reach its destination, but she'd somehow mis-read him and ended up _shoving_ him in the direction she _didn't want him to go._

"No, I just thought he might of because of a misunderstanding yesterday." Wendy tried to explain. "See, I wrote a note to Dee, the one he got in the lunchroom yesterday? I had Emily deliver it for me because it would have looked weird if _I_ delivered it-"

"Wait, _that was your note?"_ Stan questioned, cutting her off much like she'd just cut him off, but there was a rising tenor in his voice that showed she was not doing well in rescuing this mishap. "Why did you send Dee a _note?"_

"Because I knew Butters was going to ask him out, and I wanted to give him a _heads up_ about it- I lost my phone earlier that day, texting you, so I wrote a note instead, but I knew if you saw me giving Dee a note you'd get worried, so I decided to have someone else give it to him."

"Do I _need_ to be worried?" He pressed.

She couldn't believe this. It was like they were already dating again. Couldn't he just _trust her?_ "We're not even _together_ right now, Stan- even if I _was_ passing notes to other boys, it's not your business right now."

" _SO YOU ARE?!"_

His sudden shout brought the whole classroom to a grinding halt, kids looking over and _staring,_ waiting for something to happen besides Stan and Wendy sitting in absolutely embarrassed silence, Stan staring at Wendy, Wendy specifically looking away from him. Seconds ticked by, likely only half a minute, but it felt like an hour before other students realized nothing more of interest was going to happen and returning to their chatting among themselves. It was only after this that Stan managed to bring it back down a few notches and ask, with a bit more control:

" _... are you?"_

Wendy sighed. This is what she was singing up for, it seemed. Why did she keep coming back to him? She'd seen him be so _capable,_ knew him to be so _empathetic_ and _sweet..._ but moments like this soured the mix. She didn't hate him for it, she understood these feelings... but the fact that he couldn't just _trust her,_ that her _word_ never seemed to be good enough made her feel like she was bashing her head against a brick wall.

On some level, she was certain that he felt the same way about it, bashing his head on the other side of that same brick wall. Between the two of them, they _wanted_ to crack it, but they both just ended up bloody and confused. _Metaphorically_ bloody, of course. The confusion was pretty literal, though.

"No, Stan, I'm not." She promised, looking back to him and offering a smile, trying to reassure him.

She felt a bit better when he mirrored that smile back at her, befuddled though it was. It was a look on his face that got her exhausted heart to melt.

* * *

Dee felt she knew exactly what she needed to do not even _moments_ after first hour had ended. The answer was so simple, and yet? She was still fighting with just how to get the message across to Butters.

Really, what was the _right way_ to tell a friend _no, thanks, I'm kind already involved with someone, but it's a secret?_ Or, _no, thanks, but going out with you would be a big fat lie and I like you too much to do that?_ She didn't see any way to get either of those across without _talking,_ and even if she wrote the boy a lengthy e-mail she didn't see a way through that wasn't going to incur _questions_ from a guy who had been forced to ask her out twice because she hit the _edit-undo_ button on the first try. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had happened in the same manner as the first time- _that_ could be blamed on a memory echo, similar circumstances leading to similar actions being taken because his subconscious popped up and went _OH I KNOW THIS ONE!_ Like an over-eager kid suddenly realizing they've got the answer for the teacher in class. But what he did that morning? That was deliberate, _different,_ no echo caused that.

 _I wanna let him down easy... and I still want him to be my friend. Butters is good like that, I don't think he'll have a problem, it's just finding the right way to..._

"Dee! Hey, dude, over here!"

Thoughts were broken into as Dee traveled down the hall from second hour towards the gym. Through the tide of passing-time traffic, she'd been called over... by Stan? Yeah, Stan, waving for her attention to come over, looking rather _desperate_ to talk to her, actually. He had that certain _earnest_ energy on his face, a little bit of worry in the brow that keyed her into some kind of anxiety before she even arrived at his side after a course-correction.

"Hey, man, I... oh boy, I just had to ask something real quick- that note yesterday, the one you got at lunch?"

 _Shove a Christmas tree up Santa's asshole, did Kyle fucking talk to you? I told that fucker I wasn't into Wendy, and he still fuckin' tattles like a kid?_ Eyes turned dead and her line mimicked a flat-line on a heart monitor, serving him a _look._

"Jeez, dude, calm down, I just wanted to ask a couple questions. I heard the note was actually from Wendy, and I wanted to know what it said. Can I see it?"

 _You think I have it with me? Fuck no. Something like that falls outta my pocket because of some kind of bullshit, Bebe or one of the other girls sees it, and **bang,** suddenly the whole school starts talking like you are right now. _Her face twisted, getting angry. _Fuck right off outta my business, man, she's not even your girlfriend right now._

"Jesus, okay, you don't have to glare _death_ at me. I just... I guess I just wanted some hard _proof,_ is all."

 _Soggy crackers and shit, you poor fuck._ The pair were approaching the hallway that would lead to the locker rooms, and she signaled him to stop with her at the corner before the turn. There, she took him by the shoulder with a firm grip that _desperately wanted to crush down with all the strength her hand could muster,_ but restrained for a more _comrade-like_ grasp. A physical show that she wasn't against him, but he was _seriously getting on her nerves._ With his attention, she looked him in the eye, face tilted down so that she could peer up at him from under the slight cover of her brow in a manner that meant to remind him that _she didn't play these stupid fucking games, and he knew that._

He seemed unnerved by it, or at least made to be _uncomfortable._ His weight shifted this way, then that, and finally he closed his eyes and exclaimed; "I _know it's stupid, okay!_ I just... I can't help it. It doesn't go away, no matter how much I tell myself."

She sighed; much as she hated to admit... she could feel that. Had this happened yesterday, she might have been a great deal less sympathetic... but, well, she'd been going through her own special flavor of stupid lately, and she knew at least a _little_ of where he was coming from. Eyes closed, head hung, and when she lifted her skull up again on a neck that found the strength to return to upright it came with the company of a tired but understanding grimace that morphed into a smile shortly after. She released him, reached down to her jean pockets, and turned them out to show that they were empty.

"Oh, you don't have it with you... is it at home?"

She nodded, pushing her pockets back in. _I meant to burn it, but, well... things I haven't gotten around to, yet._

"If you could just... send me a picture of it or something after school, just to ease my mind, I'd appreciate that." He suggested a new solution to his problem. Her response was a small nod, the pair reaching an agreement just in time for the warning bell.

 _Goddamnit can today just be over? I could... **really** dig that. _

Wishful thinking wouldn't do Dee much as she and Stan continued the trek into the boy's locker room. She had to weather through this... _just like everybody else._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _HOLY CRAP WE ARE BACK!_

Sorry for the long break over the holidays my friends, but we are back with a fresh new chapter. I got a **lot** of freedback on the last one, and while I'm not gonna directly address any one particular comment I am gonna put a quick little reminder here:

 _ **I have not watched all or even most of South Park.**_ This was noted at the beginning of the series, but it bares repeating here. _These stories are my just-for-fun project, which means I am not going to consume all of South Park before writing something. This is fun for me, not work._ I apologize if I don't get someone's favorite character _absolutely perfect,_ but I'm also not going to spend hours on the wiki double-checking everyone involved before I write a scene. That's just the nature of this beast. I'm not ungrateful for the feedback I got; the fact that people felt the need to write paragraphs means they were invested enough in the story to _care enough_ to write paragraphs [I hope]... but, at the same time, this story just isn't that sort of production that I'm going to spend hours upon hours of research upon, or put myself through all twenty years of the South Park canon in a marathon sitting. I'm gonna watch the show in my own time as a leisure activity, and write this story, _probably in all the wrong ways_ , as a leisure activity. I'm not mad at anyone, I'm just lettin' y'all know what kind of project this is.

Now that all of that has been said,

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	7. Where's Wendy?

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Where's Wendy?::**

[Received, 2:59] Dude, u good?

Dee had effectively _checked the fuck out_ for the rest of her day. Gym? Auto pilot. Lunch? Tuned the fuck out. If asked she could not recall what it was she really did in social studies or math, her last two classes of the day. She knew she saw people, but she hadn't really been _involved_ in any of the conversations that went on around her, and since _staring blankly_ counted as a response from her... most people didn't actually notice that she was basically in _screen saver mode._ If the guys at lunch had stopped bickering long enough to try and include her, she neither knew nor cared about it. Kenny came and sat next to her during work time in social studies, their only shared hour that didn't have the rest of the regular group present, but she hadn't really acknowledged his presence outside of opening her textbook and getting to work.

None of that mattered. What mattered was that _she made it to the end of the goddamned day_ without any other incident or drama. She'd crossed the finish line by boarding the bus, making a break for her lonely half-seat in the back, and curling up against the window to put her forehead against the cold glass and forget about the world for the time it took to get home.

This failure of a faux victory dance was interrupted by her phone, buzzing in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. Apparently, while _most_ others didn't notice when she'd lapsed out of reality, one person _did._

 _Kenny._

Her head rolled against the texture of the fake, crusty brown 'leather' that covered the bus seat, blinking dully at where Kenny sat- across from her and just a little further up the aisle. Cartman was on the outside of the seat, his bulk blocking most of the view, but she could see Kenny with his head bent over his phone- no doubt awaiting a response to his well-meaning text while the fatass spoke excitedly to Clyde about what he might sing for the contest. Apparently he was having trouble narrowing it down, and was now considering doing a home-made mix between a few poppy tunes. In the seat just behind, Stan and Kyle were deeply entrenched in discussing something else- it could have been the contest, or Kyle could have been lecturing him about Wendy again; Dee couldn't hear over the din.

With a huff, she turned her attention back to her phone.

[Sent, 3:00] Sorta? I'm fine, but I've gotta do something I don't want to.  
[Sent, 3:00] Been stewing on it all day.

[Received, 3:00] I got that, u wanna talk about it? U could come over

 _I feel like I've spent more time at your house than I have at everyone else's combined so far this school year. Not sure anyone but me has noticed, but that doesn't mean I'm not getting paranoid about it._

[Sent, 3:01] I think it's your turn to come to my place. You might be able to help, I think I'm over thinking this bullshit.

[Received, 3:01] Thats a fucking first, dont u usually fix things by hitting them?

[Sent, 3:02] That's just the issue- this is a problem I can't punch. I'm not good at those.

Across the aisle, she was pretty sure she heard Kenny's muffled laugh coming out of his hood. It was a stupid joke, but she found a twisted smile on her own face as she tried not to silently crack up. Melancholy briefly gave way to a sneer and a sharp exhale out of her nose- about as close as she got to _laughter_ in public.

"Aw, man, is Kenny sharing dirty jokes again?" Kyle's head had shot up, having also heard Kenny laugh and then looking over to find Dee doing her best impression of a red balloon after she'd closed her mouth and puffed out her cheeks, fighting the urge to go into outright _giggles_. "C'mon dudes, _share!"_

* * *

"Sport! Kenny! How was school, kiddos?"

Dee arrived home to find her father already in, oddly early for the hours work usually kept him... and it smelled like he'd been cooking. _Goddamn, stoners made the best cooks._ Even if the man had given up his pot habit a long time ago, he still had an intense love of food that was reflected by a well-rounded pallet... which fed his well-rounded gut. Even if she usually was _happy_ to see her dad, his presence was somewhat inopportune- she'd been hoping to have at least an hour before mom came home for her and Kenny to just have the house to themselves. Even if her _parents_ knew her voice, _they didn't know she'd started talking to others,_ and they most certainly would not _approve._ They would approve of her being _involved_ with someone even less, she was certain.

" _Hi!"_ Kenny's greeting was as enthusiastic as her father's was, waving as he got in the door and shut it behind himself and Dee. _"Oooh, what's cookin'?"_

" _Alfredo lasagna."_ The brown-haired main replied with a grin. "A little _non-traditional_ experiment. You two heading up to hit the books? Need any snacks? I can make some cheesy chips real quick."

Kenny pumped a fist into the air, doing one of his trademark _Woohoo!_ Noises that was usually reserved for the mention or sight of squishy lady bits, but there were few pleasures in life greater than a hot plate of tortilla chips covered in melty cheese and seasoning salt. It even got a smile out of Dee, despite the return of her rather _morose_ mood. She couldn't help it- she was _not_ looking forward to her given task of the afternoon, but the longer she put it off the more likely it was that someone was going to come out of this with their feelings hurt.

 _It's so goddamn stupid- why do humans have to be a social species with emotions and shit?_

"You got it- I'll bring it up when it's ready."

" _How the fuck do you guys afford all the crazy shit your dad cooks all the time?"_ Kenny wondered aloud as Dee led the ascent up the stairs, arriving at the top and taking the first door on the right to pass into her room. Her response was a _shrug,_ both parents worked, but that didn't change the fact that they used to _move all the damn time,_ and that shit got expensive... yet, they still managed to always live in some moderate amount of comfort. Nice, middle-class, suburban homes. Maybe her parents were getting ad revenue back when they first discovered their powers, before the government got involved? She didn't know, and she hadn't asked... but life had _always_ been reasonably cushy whenever they'd not been living out of a car during any given transition... and Dad had pretty much always been a madman in the kitchen, throwing recipes together like a wizard working magic.

She could even say the rejects worked a lot like bad potions- every now and then Dad would go for flavors that just didn't play well together, and the poor abused toilet knew exactly how wrong that could go.

Now that Dee had a deal with the government, she wondered if she could convince them to _pay her_ equal to a member of the military. If they expected her to use her powers for them, that sorta made her an honorary special operative, right? Bah, negotiations she'd enter into another time, when she'd already done something for them and had more to bargain with. If _she_ started pulling in an income, she could spend it on whatever she wanted... maybe surprise Kenny with a trust fund to take care of him and Karen; let them get emancipated from their shitty-ass situation. Maybe Kevin, too, under the clause that he go to AA and clean up his act.

" _Dude, you drifted off again. Come back to us, cadet, you've spaced."_

Dee blinked, realizing she'd just been _standing_ in the middle of her room while wandering off on a mental tangent- a particularly insidious form of procrastination that was a bad habit of hers when she wasn't looking forward to doing something.

" _So what's going on?"_

She frowned faintly, dropping her bookbag to the floor and wandering over to her desk chair to turn it 'round and flop into it, quickly melting down into the mother of slouched postures, her lower back taking up more of the seat than her butt did. With a glance out her open door, she blinked before deciding she could get away with talking- Dad wouldn't be up for another couple minutes. There wasn't anyone _dangerous_ to her, here- the biggest risk was getting in trouble with her parents, which rarely resulted in anything she couldn't just work around.

"Butters asked me out again." She reported lowly, wary of being heard all the same. "And I didn't wanna say _no_ in front of everybody, so I told him I'd text him later."

" _Oh."_ Kenny's response came with a note of surprise, but Dee wasn't exactly sensing any _support._ Instead, she found him giving her something of a look. _"Don't you think that's kinda shitty? He asked you in person, shouldn't you answer him with something better than a text?"_

Eyebrows popped up, cheeks pressing forward as her lips made a little 'o'. At first she wanted to be mad, but that was just frustration mounting because she wasn't _good_ at this shit. Anger could be swallowed back, and she came to chew on her lower lip as she found herself thinking that _Kenny certainly had a point._ Butters had done this the hard way, asking where people could see him, ignoring possible judgment from his peers... a text did seem the _cowards way out,_ more than a little bit. It lacked respect.

 _Goddamnit but I wanna say no to his face even less! And how would I, even?_

" _Why are you so worried about him? It's not like he's a delicate fucking flower- I think you're underestimating him. Butters isn't **Stan,** even if you do make him sad, he'll get the fuck over it in a couple days." _

_Because my brain loves worst-case scenarios?_ She wasn't certain if the thought was serious or sarcastic in tone, but ultimately it was the truth. She'd assumed the worst of this situation at every turn, all while mentally whining about it at every goddamned step... her own desire to _avoid all this crap_ made it a lot more complicated than it had to be. Once _that_ particular thought hit her upside the head, she found herself giving Kenny one of her flat _looks,_ staring at him for a few extended seconds while channeling the thought _Goddammit I hate it when you're right_ with all the energy she could muster.

"Knock, knock, boys- one plate of cheesy chips, served up hot!"

There was no time for Kenny to get smug, food had arrived and he was closest to the door. Her father appeared in the open portal with a platter of melty goodness, handing it off to Kenny as he stepped up to receive the dish. _"Thank you!"_ Was Kenny's muffled appreciation, turning to put the plate on Dee's desk and shuffling his hood out of the way to start munching sooner rather than later.

"You two all good up here?" Her father quested. "Need anything else from downstairs?"

Dee waved a hand. _We're fine, pops, take it easy._

"Alright, sport, remember to keep the door open- your mom will have my head if I don't keep you youngsters following the rules."

 _Don't have to say it **every time** I have someone over, Dad. I can remember it after the first thousand times. _Even with these thoughts, Dee smiled at her father before he departed, thumping his way down the stairs as Kenny chewed through a quarter of the plate of chips before she even got a crack at it. Swiveling and scooting her chair, she sat up from her puddle-like state to munch.

"I've got an idea, if you want it." He offered, lifting a stack of three chips that had been glued together by the cheese, twisting them to catch the long stretched line of dairy goodness that tried to connect back down to the plate and wind it around the cluster before shoving it into his mouth.

 _I'm open to suggestions._ She looked up at him as she tugged a few edge chips loose before using them to scoop up some of the cheese that got lost on the bottom of the plate before it got cold and hard.

"You're not gonna like it, but hear me out..."

* * *

"Hey... sorry I'm late."

Stan felt like he was held together by nothing more than his anxious energy at this point. Dee had said he was gonna text him a picture of the note Wendy had mentioned, but that text had not yet come and it was well after four- he'd _watched_ the kid get off the bus and head straight home with Kenny following after him. Had they decided to hang out, and Dee just got distracted? That was the reasonable explanation, the one he'd tried to furnish for himself while getting his book-work done after getting home himself... but the longer he sat there without getting a text, the more he began to worry if he had been _played_ somehow. Had Wendy lied to him? Had Dee lied to him? Were the two in cahoots with each other and sneaking around behind his back?

He got himself all the way to four-fifteen before he caved in to internal pressures and sent Dee a text, asking about the note. Dee had two speeds when it came to texting back- instant or not at all... which made him worry all the more when he didn't get an answer within five minutes.

 _Maybe he's busy. Video games, school stuff, maybe figuring out what he's doing for the singing contest-_

And that was when he realized he late in heading to the community center to practice _his_ piece for the singing contest with everyone else. He'd gotten so stressed out about this stupid note that he'd blanked on the fact that they were all supposed to meet there at _four_! A little sprinting had sent him on his way, sloppily pulling his hat and coat on and yelling that he'd be back later to whatever family was in the house to hear it before slamming the front door closed just in time to hear his sister shouting back _"No one will miss you, Turdlord!"_

One crazed run through the town later, and he had arrived- huffing, puffing, and greeted near the heavy double-doors by Kyle. His friend had his arms crossed, looking more than a little anxious himself.

"It's cool, dude, but... uh, have you seen Wendy?"

 _That_ wasn't a good question. Stan glanced past Kyle, into the community center proper. The other members of their group were milling around; Bebe, Red, Nichole, Kevin, and Clyde... no Wendy. Why wasn't Wendy here? She had the lead part for the girls.

Suddenly the fact that Dee didn't reply to his text made him feel as if Wendy ditching him for the odd mute boy was a certainty. Forget that it didn't make any sense, that he'd seen Kenny go to hang out with Dee after school, that all parties involved had assured him in some way or another that they _weren't interested in each other-_ insecurity was winning a battle against common sense that made him want to slam that door right back in Kyle's face, march over to Dee's place, and demand to know where the hell Wendy was.

"N... _no."_ He murmured, a tiny action in the face of the mountainous weight that sat upon his head pressuring him to _do something._

"Ugh!" Bebe let out a noise of frustration, her attention having been trained upon both Stan's arrival and the answer to Kyle's question. "We only have the practice space reserved until five! We're barely going to have time to go through the choreography, much less practice any singing."

"Try calling her again?" Red suggested. "I don't get why she's not answering her phone..."

"I'm sure there's a good reason, Wendy doesn't flake out for nothing." Nichole added, trying to reassure the group as a whole.

"This is _stupid."_ Clyde muttered, further from the door and with his hands in his pockets. Stan remembered asking him to be part of the group, since they'd needed one last guy to get them to an even number of both boys and girls- it had taken the promise of Red's phone number to get him on board, and even after that he still grumbled.

"Can we get started without her? At least to start learning the dance steps?" Kyle questioned as Stan finally moved past the doorway, accepting that he was _here now_ and letting the heavy door shut behind him. "We shouldn't be wasting time."

"I _guess,_ but Wendy was supposed to bring the music and stuff?" Bebe's hands turned upwards, shrugging her shoulders to show she had nothing in way of practice materials or ideas.

" _Seriously?_ She should have been here before all of us if she had all the important stuff with her." Kyle argued.

"Don't yell at me!" Bebe defended. "She told me she had to go do something right after school but that she shouldn't have a problem making it on time."

"Huh?" Stan quickly latched on to any morsel of information, stepping into the knot of kids carrying on the conversation rather than simply standing next to and ever-so-slightly behind Kyle. "Did she say _where_?"

Bebe's arms crossed over her chest, cocking her hips and raising her chin before she answered Stan. "I didn't _ask,_ she just told me she had something to do, but she'd still be able to make practice. I said _'Okay, cool, see you then,'_ and got on the bus."

 _Something?_ What was _something?_ Wendy could have gone _anywhere_ after school.

"Dude, what are you so _worried_ about?" Kyle questioned, reaching out for Stan's shoulder. "I'm sure she's fine, she probably just got held up somewhere or something."

 _It's not where she is, it's who she might be **with.**_

That particularly incendiary thought didn't make it out of his mouth- not in front of the other girls. He wouldn't say anything off-color about Wendy in front of them; comments like that could be the fuel for the fire that would roast them both alive by tomorrow morning at school.

"It... it's _nothing,_ let's just get started. We've all got the internet, I'm sure we can look up something that will help."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Bit of a slog, this chapter. I'm still having trouble finding my usual flow after that long break, but I feel like I gotta keep pushing forward.

As always, I thank everyone for their continued support of this project! You all may notice this story finally has a cover image now, I drew that one! If you haven't already found my Tumblr, the full piece with the background is posted there. I welcome you to mosey on over, as I welcome interaction from my readers. People sending in asks about random stuff has actually spawned a couple of outlines for future stories XD.

And yes, I changed up how Kenny texts- having him type in a more casual manner gave the interaction a little more personality, I felt.

 _ONWARDS!_

- _Buttlord_


	8. Let's Play Phone Tag

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Let's Play Phone Tag::**

 _Surprise_ is what went through Butter's mind when he was invited via text to meet Kenny by Stark's pond, just a little after four in the afternoon. He'd been obsessively checking his phone, waiting for a message from Dee, and the little _buzz-buzz_ of his vibrating text alert had sent his heart into a lurch before he saw it wasn't from the person he was waiting for. It was something of a sling-shot effect, snapping him back into _anxiously waiting,_ and on reflex he wanted to say _no, I'm busy with something..._ but he supposed a little walk out to the pond could do him good. More good than sitting alone in his room, waiting for his phone to tell him the future like some sort of mystical oracle. He could receive a text anywhere in town, after all; why should he be cooped up in his room when he could go out and meet a buddy while he waited?

So, with a quick confirmation with his dad to ask permission to go out, and the promise that he'd be back in time for dinner, he stepped out into the afternoon chill to take a brisk walk down the block and head for the paths that would take him through the woods to Stark's pond, texting Kenny along the way that he'd be there soon. Kenny responded that he'd be on the north shore of the pond, and thanked him for coming out- and now that Butters was thinking about it, since when did _Kenny_ invite him to hang out? They weren't exactly _best buds..._ but maybe that could change? He was always open to new friends, after all; maybe Kenny was trying to build a bridge.

That would be cool; more friends was always a positive thing, even if Kenny was a bit of an odd duck.

So he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, and pushed up the pace in getting across town and tracing his way up the woodsy pathways that took over when the sidewalk ended, heading for the north shore of the pond. It was a pretty idyllic afternoon; sunlight filtering through evergreen trees, recent snow crusting the leaves of bushes in tiny ice crystals, and a slight breeze making the branches high above his head sigh and sway. He supposed it might have been a _little_ cold for autumn, and the first day of school had seen a pretty big chunk of snow, but that was just how living in the mountains tended to go. Some years spring held out, other years the plows worked overtime, and the world looked like a lightly frosted cake- it was a simple pleasure, and made him smile as he quick-stepped through the brush to arrive at his destination.

Upon arrival, the shot of surprise he'd experienced at home was upgraded to a touch of _shock._

Oh, Kenny was there alright, his bright orange trademark parka calling him out at a distance... but Dee was there too! The big poofy fur-line hood of his black coat was easy to pick out, and if that wasn't identifying enough, the curls of candy-red hair that peeked out from the edges were.

"Hey fellas!" Butters called, trotting as he cleared the tree cover to make it over to them, feeling a little relief after the first shot of adrenaline wore off; Dee must have been nervous about answering and brought Kenny as a sort of wing-man. Least, that's how he figured it. He could get that. He'd needed a bit of a stiff kick in the butt from Heidi before he had managed to ask- this stuff wasn't easy, no matter who you were. He smiled as the pair turned towards him, Kenny's face covered as always but his cheeks rising up beneath his eyes in a way that showed he was probably smiling back. Dee's face remained pretty neutral, but that wasn't odd for him. "Kenny, you didn't tell me Dee was gonna be here- is... is this about the dance?"

Best to be clear. Assumptions led to trouble and all that.

Kenny glanced back toward Dee, who might have been standing _behind_ Kenny to a certain degree, as if the boy in orange were protecting him. At this signal, Dee stepped up, side-by-side with Kenny and nodding to Butters and a sort of nervous, half-smile tugging up at the right corner of his mouth.

All at once, Butters knew what the answer was. He blinked- seeing it was more than a lack of confidence on Dee's face; there was a flash of _regret_ that weighed in on Dee's expression. It was in his eyes, something hard to define but _it was there._ Apologetic, maybe, as eyebrows rose and came together, and his eyes shined a distinct _sorry._ The expression came together in a manner that told him without much room for doubt- _Dee's answer was no._

 _Then,_ before Butters could even accept that answer, or ask why that was the answer, Dee reached out to his side... and grabbed Kenny's hand. It was a simple gesture, quiet, but obvious in the way that Dee didn't usually touch people unless it was to whack 'em one. This action wasn't violent; it was simple, small, and groundbreaking all at the same time.

"Oh." Butters muttered, putting it together as he looked between the two guys before him. _"Oh!_ You- _you guys,_ you're-"

Dee nodded a little, cheeks turning faintly pink as the fact was recognized. _Relief_ colored the look on his face now, tension melting away as an actual smile took over from the broken anxious thing that had existed before.

"Oh _jeez,_ and it's... _it's a secret, isn't it?"_ It was all coming together at once; Kenny and Dee were in a secret relationship! And- _oh hamburgers he'd nearly blown the top off the whole thing,_ hadn't he? "But... you're telling _me?_ Why?"

" _'Cause you're a good guy and Dee trusts you."_ Kenny told him, supplementing where Dee's expressions might have trouble giving details. Even as he said it, though, Dee had reached out his other hand to grab Butters by the shoulder, pulling him in and putting an arm around him as a show of friendly affection. Butters had not been entirely _ready_ for it, tripping over his own feet a little before he came to settle as part of the group; Kenny on one side, him on the other, and Dee in the middle as the newly made trio found themselves turned back towards the pond, looking over the slushy surface that had not yet fully solidified into ice for the year.

"I... _golly_ I don't know what to say." This had happened rather quickly, but he didn't feel _bad_ about any of it- sure he'd been shot down, but it had been for good reason. If Dee was anything, he was _complicated;_ no doubt his relationships all ended up that way, too. Being trusted with a secret like this made Butters feel pretty dang special at the end of the day; so what if he didn't bag a boyfriend? He instead fond himself the confidant of one of the most secretive kids he knew... and _that_ left him beaming. "I won't tell anyone, promise!" He assured at once, turning his head to look over at the other two.

Dee's teeth appeared in a bright grin, nodding. _I know you won't, buddy,_ was what that look said.

"So... what now?" He found himself asking. "Are _you guys_ gonna go to the dance together? Or- I mean, I guess not, what with it being a _secret_ an' all..." He trailed off; that didn't seem fair to him. Sure, they couldn't come as an out-and-out couple, but it sucked that keeping it a secret meant they couldn't just come to the dance as buds... _or maybe they could?_ "Oh, hey, I've got an idea! What if we all went to the dance together, as friends? My dad could give us all a ride, you guys can still go 'together', but no one has to know _how_ together, and I don't have to go all by myself! We can all come together as buddies."

Dee and Kenny exchanged a look- were they surprised about how quickly he was on board with this? He didn't get why- he'd gotten here, found out they were a couple, and adapted to that. It wasn't hard; he just accepted the situation for what it was and rolled with it. That talk from Heidi had helped, too, he had to admit; that whole _letting go of expectations_ thing. He hadn't walked in _expecting_ a yes, so a _no_ hadn't wrecked him.

He'd have to thank her for that.

" _I'm good with it, what do you think?"_

Kenny's muffled voice left the decision in Dee's hands. Dee's gaze shifted back out towards the pond, musing for a few seconds more before turning towards Butters and giving a sharp nod; it was a plan.

"Great!" Butters grinned. "I'll ask Dad about it tonight and make sure it's okay... and if anyone asks about this stuff, I'll just tell 'em the answer was no. No big deal!" As he spoke, he slipped out from under Dee's arm, despite the fact that he'd liked the gesture a great deal... but the simple fact that Kenny and Dee were _still_ holding hands made him feel like he was intruding on them, just a little bit. Had they only recently started this relationship? That was the feeling he got; that it was something new and exciting that left neither of them knowing exactly what to do... and yet, he'd been welcomed into their space, allowed to see, allowed to know.

 _And now I've gotta be responsible with it and not tell nobody- they're counting on me!_

"Hey, Dee- no hard feelings, okay?" He felt the need to reassure as his departure turned the trio back into a pair. "I'm happy for you guys."

* * *

Somehow, some way, this had all gone a _lot_ better than Dee had expected.

When Kenny had suggested they straight up _tell Butters what was going on,_ she hadn't liked the idea. Not even a little, but it hadn't taken him long to convince her that he was worth trusting with this... and it was a gesture of mutual respect to tell the full truth. And now? Here they were on the other side of it, Butters walking away and no worse for wear, and the pair of them allowed to just _be._ Even better, she had a plan for the dance now- at least... _getting there._ The singing contest was a bit of a question mark.

She had to admit, it felt pretty good.

"Well, any more bright ideas?" She asked him lowly, not hearing any other movement as Butters left them by way of the path through the woods. "This keeps up, I'm gonna have you do all my thinkin' for me."

" _You might hurt yourself less."_ He snarked before letting out a laugh, thought it was cut short as she finally slipped her hand out of his to bend her arm and dig her elbow into his ribs through his coat. _"Hey- c'mon, you walked right into that one!"_

Dee pouted, but playfully so, relenting her attack while shaking her head and making a motion that signaled that they should probably head on as well. She wouldn't exactly get in _trouble_ if she was late for dinner, but Dad's experiments usually tasted best when they were still hot. Besides, it _had_ smelled really good when they'd been heading out, and if it turned out well she could probably convince her parents to send Kenny home with a hefty portion of leftovers for his family. Ms. McCormick was always really good about returning their dishes whenever they sent Kenny back with food, and it meant that said leftovers wouldn't be left to languish in their fridge behind whatever Dad decided to cook next.

Thoughts of food conservation were interrupted when Dee felt her phone going off. Just as she and Kenny had been beginning to make the trek back, she felt it buzz... and buzz, and buzz- not a text, but a _phone call._

 _Someone was calling her?_ Most everybody knew better.

Unzipping the pocket on her black coat, she reached in to retrieve her phone, blinking at the caller. Stan? Stan was calling her?

 _Oh shit that stupid note, the kid is probably dying of anxiety. I've missed texts from him, too. Damnit, I got distracted._

Still, what was a phone call going to do? She wasn't going to say anything. Then again, letting it ring off and go to message might confirm any horrible suspicions the kid already had. Kenny had been teaching her about this- social actions having consequences and all that bullshit.

So, despite everything, she slid the green symbol over to answer the call, pressing the button for speaker phone since Kenny had stopped as well and was looking back rather curiously.

" _Where the hell is Wendy?"_

Stan's voice came through in an instant, loud, clear, and _upset._

" _Dude, he probably doesn't know, you can't just accuse him like that-"_

Another voice, _Kyle._ They were together, and Kyle seemed to be attempting some damage control.

" _Hey, guys, what's wrong? Did Wendy not show up for practice or something?"_ Kenny joined the conversation; despite being muffled _and_ over the phone, his friends always seemed to understand him perfectly. The current moment was no exception to that rule.

" _Kenny! You're with Dee?"_ Stan's surprise was _palpable,_ as well as a distinct sense that he was _losing his grip_ on the situation. Perchance he'd expected a different voice, a different companion on Dee's phone. _"You... uh... haven't seen Wendy lately, have you? I thought she might've..."_

 _Ditched you guys to hang out with me? Stan, I love you, but you're a fucking nut sometimes._

" _She's not with us, we haven't seen her since school today."_ Kenny confirmed. _"I've been with Dee since we got off the bus."_

" _Wait, so **no one** has seen her since school?" _Kyle's voice had turned down the path of worry, but it was of a different flavor. Stan's concern was the whiny sound of an almost-boyfriend who was feeling extremely threatened... Kyle's suspected something _bad_ might have happened. _"Sorry guys, we gotta go- Stan we gotta try her parents, see if they've-"_

Just as quickly as the conversation started, it ended with the _do-do-doot_ tone of a call ending.

Dee and Kenny ended up staring at one another, sharing an unfortunate affirmation between them.

They were going to be _utterly_ late for dinner at Dee's place. Wendy missing with Cartman's latest antics? It didn't take a genius to figure out what might have happened here.

" _What the hell did you do to piss him off this badly?"_

Dee blinked- Kenny's voice had dropped. Not his usual sweet tone, but darker and more serious. And why not? He knew that Cartman needed a _push_ before he went straight for _kidnapping,_ and what was missing from this equation was the all-important _why._

It was a _why_ that Dee wasn't particularly proud of. Less so when it made Kenny turn _that_ particular tone on her after things had been going so _well,_ so _positive._ She felt like she'd been enjoying a jog only to look away for a second and slam directly into a brick wall.

"I... _uh..._ I screamed at him. During the mock trial, when he got the evidence thrown out- I drug him into the boys bathroom and... well, I yelled at him, then I threatened him, uh... _yeah_."

 _I tried to use fear to control him. I bellowed at him until he crumpled into a whimpering ball, and it felt fucking good until I realized y'all had already done everything needed to help us win anyway. I used my voice needlessly, and I feel fucking horrible about it._

Kenny's head drew back, as if she might have splashed him with a cup of water to the face. It wasn't the answer he expected, but she could see that it snapped into place and made sense to him.

" _Wendy's a hostage."_ He realized all at once. _"Ms. Misty's behavior- it was meant to outrage Wendy so that she'd investigate on her own, and probably lead her into a trap- this whole thing isn't about Cartman winning the stupid singing contest, though he's probably rigged it-_ _ **it's about making you reveal your voice to the whole school.**_ _It's been pissing him off for years that you've been trolling him, verbally taking his head off musta been the straw that broke the camel's back."_

"If that's the case, he should level a threat soon." Dee observed. "... probably tomorrow morning, at school, where he can pretend to be worried and then drop a couple of ' _cute_ ' hints..." She shook her head, wiping those thoughts out. "This is _Wendy,_ though- knowing her, she's found some way to-"

Dee was cut off; Kenny's phone was going off now, buzzing up a storm in his pocket. She held her breath as he yanked it free to look at it, and found a flare of hope as he turned the lit up face towards her to show the display.

 _Incoming call from Wendy_

 _Lead us right to her. Goddamn I love this girl._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

So in the break between seasons, the South Park website has made episodes from all seasons available for watching to the general public. Where before I was stuck with the random sampling of 30 episodes from scattered seasons to consume without cost to myself [or piracy], it appears I now have all the things. I went to the beginning, and I'm currently in season two; I just learned about calling Shenanigans, and I feel like someone really needs to educate Dee's family on that one.

It's amazing; my big brother was huge on making audio clips back when I was a little kid [we're talking about fifteen-seventeen years ago] and putting them on CDs because we'd just gotten our first computer capable of burning CD-Rs and CD-RWs, and he'd make these CDs that were like 70% random South Park quotes interspersed with Tool, Korn, and System of a Down, and I listened to those mixes ALL THE TIME. I actually remember digging South Park when I was 8-10ish, but then we got the N-64 game [yeah, the terrible one with the turkeys, but fuck it I loved the cow gun. Eight-year-old me thought that shit was hilarious], and my mom basically BANNED ALL THINGS SOUTH PARK in the house after I tried to explain Mr. Hankey to her... buuut my big brother was already hardcore into the downloading scene, so he was still getting these audio clips and putting them onto stuff because he was a rebellious little twelve-year-old. In watching these early seasons, I'm realizing how much South Park I've _listened to_ without having seen it.

I feel like I need Kyle sneaking things their mom doesn't agree with into Ike's media diet in a similar fashion. It feels like a cute homage to what my brother did for me. XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	9. Hostage Situation

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Hostage Situation::**

Ms. Misty felt as if she'd been forced into a corner, but there was nothing for it, now.

She knew no matter what happened, it was going to end badly for her, but she was lucky enough to be the owner of one extremely effective _resting bitch face_ that kept most of the questions off for the first day of her life as hell on earth. No one could see that she was falling apart internally, that she was screaming within her own skull and trying to figure out what the hell she could _do-_ and now? Now judgment had come, and there was nothing left to do but take the walk of shame.

In part, she was relieved. If she was fired, she could just go home and hide. She wouldn't have to pretend everything was alright, or say any other terrible things. All she had to do was take it stoically, and everything would be okay- well, she'd be out of a job, but that didn't matter right now.

 _Nothing mattered right now, so long as she didn't open her goddamn mouth._

She arrived at this district building in her powder-blue Bug just a little bit after three in the afternoon, glancing into the mirror and seeing her own faux icy calm reflected back at her, despite her inner thoughts been a volcanic burst of panic that ran in a constant stream down her spine. The mixture of extremes left her mentally numb, going through the motions of getting out, locking up, approaching the door, nodding at the man at the front desk as she entered in, passing through the halls to head to the Superintendent's office, and finally grasping the handle of the door to pass from her last moment of panic to the acceptance of her fate.

Part of her considered running. Standing in front of the heavy double doors, she knew she could throw everything in reverse and just go home. Turn off her phone, stop checking her e-mail, she could just go silent- maybe until the cops proclaimed her dead.

 _Was that better?_

 _Fuck it, I'd still be jobless. At least getting properly fired means I'll get unemployment benefits._

She pushed open the door, and found her doom within. The Superintendent's office was all dark hardwood and tasteful green accents, and the man himself sat in waiting behind his desk. He was the one who would end this little nightmare for her, but the whistle-blower was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk- a girl who had been in her office just this morning.

Wendy Testaburger. Ms. Misty had known it the moment she'd seen her earlier that day that everything was going to come crashing down- Wendy didn't let inequality pass. She grasped the rules, and knew the people to ensure they were enforced. She wanted to be so _angry_ at the little girl... but she couldn't. Wendy had done exactly what she was supposed to in a situation like this; she'd gone to the top of the food chain and reported her errant councilor without hesitation.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Misty." The PC Super stood up behind his desk, offering his hand for a respectful shake; the correct way to kick off any meeting with a staff member. She felt like she didn't deserve it, but stepped up and performed her assumed role all the same. Her hands felt cold, and overly dry- thin fingers grasped by a meat-head of a man who had perfected the art of the firm and courteous handshake before releasing her and motioning her to have a seat in the other chair. With a glance to little Wendy, who had refused to look at her thus far, she did so and folded her nervous and icy hands in her lap. "May I assume that you know what this is about?" He asked her while sitting back in his own chair, hands rested on the surface of his desk.

 _Say nothing. Do nothing. Don't fucking speak a goddamned word._ Eyes roamed, off to her right, to once again look at Wendy... who now looked back at her. She expected the look of a vengeful teenager who was about to get their way... but that wasn't the look. Wendy's face was comprised into a look of... concern? Indeed, the young lady looked _worried_ about her.

She looked back to the PC Super, and blinked a few times. Under the force of the pair of them looking at her, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked down into her lap.

"Ms. Testaburger was concerned that your behavior has changed of late, and came to express that concern to me. She also reported that you made several _non-PC comments_ this morning towards a student, and mandated participation in an event said student did not sign up for. Ms. Testaburger also alleged that you threatened that student with expulsion after making statements that could be understood as _provocation_ towards violence _._ I have to investigate these allegations to the best of my ability. Do you understand?"

 _Yes, I do. You're doing your job because I was failing to do mine, but you don't see the whole picture. You **can't.**_

She didn't look up. She _couldn't_ look up. A thousand-pound weight was sitting on the back of her neck, an emotional yolk that made her crumple forward and robbed her of her strength to face the music.

"Ms. Misty, is someone manipulating you?"

 _Wendy's voice,_ asking a pointed question, one that already knew the answer. It instigated shock, jerked her head to the side to stare at the young teen in a stately leather chair that wasn't made for the gawky, not-quite-grown-up frame she occupied... but she held herself like an adult. Straight-backed, bright, attentive eyes, and a certainty that supported her whole posture.

 _How did you know?_

Just as quickly, she pointed her nose back down towards her knees. _Don't! Don't you idiot! You could ruin everything! Don't you say one goddamned word!_

"Ms. Misty, I want to help you, but you need to tell me what happened."

Wendy's words sounded like something she might say to a student who wasn't quite ready to talk about some ugliness or another. They were the exact words she'd use on the silent victim of a bully who wasn't quite ready to speak, certain their world would fall apart if they did. _Fuck, even the tone was the same-_ roles were reversed, and this _kid_ was the even-tempered councilor, leaving her as the terrified and silent soul.

Was it the same? Was she trapped in the same psychological lie? That her oppressor was _all powerful_ and that any action would result in the worst coming to pass?

"If I say anything, he'll kill him."

* * *

Wendy found herself trading a stupefied glance with the PC Super after Ms. Misty's statement, a shot of pure shock dancing its way through her brain before she managed to refocus. From where she sat, she reached out for Ms. Misty, putting a hand on the councilor's elbow. It garnered no reaction; the woman continued looking down, staring past her own knees to the green carpet of the office and pressing her lips together as if she'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake.

"He's holding someone hostage?" Wendy asked gently. "Do you know where? We can call the police."

"He's got ears at the police station- he said so." Ms. Misty muttered. "Said if I called the cops, he'd..."

Ms. Misty's even temper, that person who never shouted or flinched, finally cracked. Her voice wavered, and her hands shifted from her knees to covering her face.

 _Goddamnit Cartman, what the fuck is wrong with you?_ Wendy had no doubt in her mind- this was disturbingly _classic_ for the fat sociopath.

"Then tell me- who did he take?"

"Ms. Testaburger..." The PC Super had been taking all of this in rather quietly until now.

" _No!"_ Wendy actually _snapped_ at the superintendent, standing up out of her chair and stepping between him and Ms. Misty, glaring viciously. "I know the _monster_ that's behind this, I know how he operates, and I've dealt with his shit before. If the police aren't going to be of any help, _then I'm going to do something!_ I know what he's capable of, and I'm not going to let an innocent get hurt over a stupid _singing contest!"_

"It could be _dangerous-_ I wouldn't be doing my job if I let you endanger yourself, Ms. Testaburger; my responsibility is to the students of my district." The PC Super insisted.

"Are you insinuating I'm not _capable_ because of my _age_?"

It was a low blow, and Wendy knew it, but she didn't have _time_ to get blockaded by the PC Super right now. His heart was in the right place, but the simple fact was that _she_ had far more experience dealing with Cartman's insanity than he did. His jaw dropped for a moment, aware that he'd been caught by how own philosophy but sitting there with an open mouth as he tried to figure out a way around it that allowed him to still stand in _protection_ over her.

In the background, Ms. Misty began to sob into her hands.

"I... I would _never,_ of course. That would be ageist. I know you to be a _very_ capable person." He stated, verbally tripping backwards as he searched for sure footing to come back against her. "But I simply cannot allow a student to endanger themselves without taking some kind of action to help assure their safety."

"Then you can make it public knowledge as fast as possible that Ms. Misty has been _fired_. Call the news, insist on a breaking story of how the comments she made will _never_ be allowed to fester in your schools. Play it up for as much shock value as possible, and make sure they're going to run it ASAP... it'll make it look like Ms. Misty held up her end of the bargain. The best way to ensure _my_ safety is to try and catch this guy with his guard down, and that means making him think he's winning."

Really, Wendy wasn't _that_ scared... but just because Cartman himself wasn't that scary, the people he might have rallied to _work under him_ were an entirely different story. For all she knew, he had the fucking mob in on this one. It wouldn't be the furthest he'd ever gone for something petty.

It seemed to take the Super a moment to process that he'd just been commanded by a twelve-year-old... but he couldn't really find a flaw in her logic, either. A few seconds more, and he stopped gawping and agreed with a swallow and a solemn nod.

Assured that she wouldn't be stopped, Wendy turned and faced Ms. Misty once more. The woman was still crying, a shaking mass of skin and bones. Crouching down, Wendy tried to position herself low enough to be within the view of her hung head, should she uncover her eyes. "Ms. Misty, this is very important. I need to know who he took, and where to find them. Any information you can give me will help me keep your loved one safe. _Please,_ I need your co-operation."

There wasn't any noticeable change, at first. Ms. Misty continued crying, sniffing, and whimpering. Wendy was beginning to feel as if she might have to slap some sense into the woman before she spoke up, but thankfully was allowed to forego that sort of force when she finally balled her hands into fists and used them to wipe her eyes, streaking black mascara over her cheeks in the process.

"Cirrus- he took my Cirrus- h-he was gone this morning, and I- I searched _everywhere!"_ She hiccuped, sniffing back, trying to get ahold of herself enough to speak clearly.

" _It's okay, Ms. Misty, take it slow."_ Wendy encouraged gently. "Start from the beginning, and tell me everything, no detail is too small..."

"There- there was a _video, he sent me a video- showed me Cirrus, told me he'd kill him if I didn't do exactly as I was told..."_ She huffed, lifting her head up to try and better breathe. From across his desk, the PC Super retrieved a handy tissue box and held it out, which she accepted eagerly to yank out several tissues and dab her eyes. "I... _Cirrus is my precious baby,_ if he... I don't know what I'd do! So... _so I said what he told me to say-_ he told me that Dee might come into my office, and if he did..."

Wendy nodded a little; she was there, she heard what was said. "He gave you a script, pretty much."

" _Mmhm."_ She nodded. "Told me what to say, how to say it, and if I told anyone, he'd..."

" _Do away_ with the hostage." _What the hell, Cartman, how low can you fucking sink?!_ Wendy wished she could still be surprised when shit like this happened over perfectly stupid things. What the hell had Dee _done_ to earn this kind of shit? "Do you have the video? How was it sent to you?"

"E-mail..." The woman sniffled. " _I can show you,_ on my phone... Can you save my baby? _Can you save Cirrus?"_

"I'm going to do the best I can, Ms. Misty." Wendy promised. "Please, show me the video."

* * *

 _She'd be here any minute now._

Cartman really took genuine _pride_ in his work whenever he ended up playing one of these _games_ with his friends; and really, why not? If he was going to put all the effort in to lead each player around, guiding them into his carefully constructed scheme, was it not like a work of art in some ways? Did that not _deserve_ a touch of pride? Certainly, he was unsure if his friends really comprehended the kind of _observation_ it took to be the master of this game, how well he had to know each and every one of them to know what they would do and where they would go, acting and reacting against that which he had set into motion.

They should have been flattered that he knew them so well. That he _understood_ them so well. Even Wendy had earned some measure of his interest, enough so that he could predict her movements and use her own confidence against her. At four in the afternoon, he'd seen everything he needed to know on the evening news; a smear article against Ms. Misty, which told him that Wendy had done _exactly_ what he'd expected- she'd gone to the PC Super, had Ms. Misty brought in, and with her _girly empathy_ gotten Ms. Misty to spill the beans- and, _like a girl,_ set up the news article as a smokescreen to protect the councilor and the oh-so-precious hostage.

 _So predictable it was almost funny._ And now Wendy would be seizing upon what she would assume was his mistake; sending his threats to Ms. Misty via a video in an e-mail. While the video did its job to scare Ms. Misty into doing what he needed her to do, showing her that her dear Cirrus was alive and well but _caged_ and _at his mercy,_ he also _knew_ it would give his location away to Wendy when Ms. Misty inevitably showed the video to her.

He'd planned it that way. What would have looked like a stupid slip-up to her, a narrow window in the frame of the video that showed a business across the street, identified his location as being in the basement of the South Park Public Library and was extremely intentional. In fact, he'd had to fight for a while to get _exactly_ the right angle to keep Cirrus in the frame _and_ get the tiny-ass window in the shot... hard work that no one would recognize, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd labored at a thankless job. It was the payoff at the end that would make it all worth it.

After he had Wendy, he'd have the leverage he needed to _make sure_ Douchebag fucking performed- no tricks, no clever smoke and mirrors, no _bullshit-_ he expected that kid to fucking _sing-_ the whole fucking school would know he _wasn't fucking special,_ that he talked just like the rest of them, and then he wouldn't be able to _pull his fucking troll bullshit anymore!_ Even better- it would show all of his friends that Douchebag had been _lying_ to them for years- not Cartman, not _Cartman always lying about Douchebag talking!_ No, no, _Douchebag fucking pretending to be a mute vagina pussy burger!_ And for what? Just to be _different?_ Just to _mess with people's heads?_

Maybe more. Maybe much more. Cartman had something lurking in his head, driving him crazy; like a word on the tip of the tongue that his brain just couldn't grasp. Somewhere, some part of him _knew_ that there was more to it than Douchebag's hidden voice. That kid had been hiding something more since the very beginning, and he was going to force all the secrets to end- in one fell swoop!

They'd thank him when he was done. _You're so good, Cartman, you ousted this liar, you showed us all how wrong we were for trusting him-_ that's what they'd say.

 _Any minute now,_ his victory would be assured.

The basement of the library was an unexpected treasure trove; not in the fact that it held shelves upon shelves of records, the very history of South Park kept in an meticulous stockpile of newspapers, photos, maps, and film- that was boring shit. No, the way it was arranged was most helpful; long and tall racks that went from end-to-end of the warehouse-like room that was the basement of the library, so stocked with boxes and folders that it was impossible to see if someone was lurking in another aisle when you were between the shelves.

Cirrus was bait; caged up at the end of one of these aisles, _arranged to be seen._ And he? He was lying in wait, just around the corner at the end of the long corridor of shelving, with a heavy metal baseball bat in his hands. Inelegant? Maybe, but effective. He wanted to make sure Wendy would be out for the count in a single shot.

That, and he felt he _owed_ her a little head trauma. Payback for old grudges.

His first signal that she had arrived was actually his hostage; the cage rattled as Cirrus stirred, growled, and then began _barking up a goddamn storm._

 _Stupid yappy fucking puffball dog._ Normally he would have yelled at it, but it was key to this was having Wendy think he _wasn't here._ That he had left his hostage unguarded so that she could _heroically_ charge in and rescue the stupid thing.

Seconds later, he heard the door at the far end of the room open, and steps coming down the creaky wooden stairs.

 _She's here._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Yep, Cirrus is a dog. I wanted to hold that out until the end of the chapter as a little giggle. I hope I executed the joke okay XD.

Not much to say here, so let's keep going!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	10. Everyone Wants to Kill Eric Cartman

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Everyone Wants to Kill Eric Cartman::**

" _Hello, Kenny."_

That wasn't the voice he was expecting to hear- _not even a little._ No, when Kenny had swiped on his iPhone to answer Wendy's call and set it to speaker-phone, he had expected Wendy's voice to tell him... well, he didn't know- what was going on, he supposed. That she had already investigated, figured out what the fuck Cartman was up to, or maybe that she'd already gone and foiled him and she just needed a ride to come take her home. At _worst_ he was expecting a call for a rescue, but with a plan for himself and Dee to follow.

Instead, he heard _Cartman's stupid fucking attempt at a gravely voice,_ which he no doubt thought was _totally bad-ass._

" _I have a message for you to deliver to your 'mute' friend, Kenny-"_

" _Dee is standing right here next to me you **fat fuck-** drop the fucking **bullshit** and tell us where the **fuck** you are so we can come **kick the shit outta you.** " _He barked back in an instant- he didn't give a _fuck_ about Cartman's stupid _posturing_ and sense of _dramatics-_ what he cared about what the fact that there was _no fucking way_ Wendy had given her phone to Cartman without a fight. Whatever was going on here, that hateful sack of shit had _done_ something to one of his friends- one of his _partners-_

 _ **Unforgivable.**_

" _EY! DON'T CALL ME FAT YOU FUCKING POOR PIECE OF SHIT!"_

Well, if there had been any doubt of it being Cartman on the phone, there wasn't anymore.

" _ **Ahem**... it's dangerous to take that tone of voice with me, Kenny- particularly when I have a friend of yours with me." _

_Wendy._ He suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed made his blood boil in his veins. A glance up towards Dee showed her face flushed an _angry red,_ brows furrowed and jaw clenched- but there was more to it than that. Yes, she was _angry,_ but... there was _shame_ there, _guilt._ Somewhere amid that full head of steam she was building up, her eyes had gone glassy. Was she about to cry? He'd _never_ seen her cry before. Not after injury or traumatic event, not in the face of monsters nor men so twisted they might as well be- and yet, right now, she appeared to be teetering on the edge of some kind of meltdown.

That's when it hit him- she felt responsible for all of this. In her mind? This was her fault; Cartman was doing this shit _because of her._ Wendy was in trouble _because of her._

 _He'll get what's coming to him, just you wait and see._

" _... say what you're going to say, you fucking **twat**." _Kenny snarled back at his iPhone through the muffling layers of his hood and scarf.

" _I just wanted to make sure Douchebag wasn't getting any clever thoughts about the singing contest- bringing an instrument, getting a partner, **beat boxing** \- I just wanted to let him know that if hedoesn't **sing** , someone he cares about might get **hurt- AUGH!"**_

Just as Cartman was talking about someone getting _hurt,_ there was a sudden cry of pain over the phone, along with a heavy _whack!,_ along with a _clatter_ that suggested that the phone had been _dropped_ onto a hard surface.

" _Awe, man, you were just playin' dead? FUCKIN' WEAK!"_

" _WENDY!"_ Kenny couldn't help shouting out, a rush of relief hitting him. She was okay! Or, at least okay enough to hit Cartman.

" _PUBLIC LIBRA-"_

It had been Wendy shouting back over the phone before the line suddenly went, Cartman no doubt trying to hang up before she spilled the beans- but it was too late. _They were at the public library,_ and Wendy was fighting back... but there was nothing wrong with a little back-up. Looking up to Dee again, he found his partner with her own phone out, tapping away at the touchscreen for a few seconds before flashing him the display to show she'd relayed information to Stan and Kyle- they too now knew what the situation was.

 _Stan might actually try to **kill** Cartman for this... maybe we'll be too late to stop him. Fuck it, we'll see. _

Kenny blinked as Dee suddenly got moving- she didn't say anything or even make a gesture that they should hurry up; she just took off like a shot, head down and arms pumping. _"Hey!"_ He called after her, but it fell on deaf and determined ears that had already decided she was going for a balls-to-the-wall sprint. Swearing, he got himself in gear, shoving his phone back into his pocket and digging in to catch up as she bolted through the woods like a frightened deer.

 _Well, at least we'll get there fast._

* * *

Wendy realized it was all a trap the moment she saw the cage left out and the lights left on; Cirrus, an adorable white Pomeranian pooch, yipping and whining and growling and yowling from within a wire mesh cage sitting atop a step ladder at the end of a long aisle of files, behind which anyone could be hiding? It was like a scene out of a movie, and it had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Instead of running down to retrieve the fluffy hostage, she stepped slowly and carefully, listening for another sign of life somewhere in this massive records room.

At first she'd heard nothing. She passed by years of history, immortalized in newspaper and then left to rot in boxes on shelves, traversing the room and drawing closer to her goal while gaining greater certainty in her _gut_ that she was not alone.

It was near the end that she could hear him _breathing._ Maybe he'd not been prepared to wait her out quite so long, not been ready for her to grow so _cautious,_ but she heard that _fat fucker mouth-breathing off to her right_ and knew exactly where he was. Her intent had been to act as if she hadn't, step out past the last length of shelf, and then drive an elbow directly into his fucking face while he still thought he was getting the drop on her.

What she hadn't expected was the _bat_. He was mid-swing by the time she stepped out, giving her minimal reaction time to drop her head and upper-body back into a sort of _limbo_ move. There was _horror_ when she saw it, fear that it might plow into her face, break her nose, leave her unconscious and utterly helpless. She contorted herself in desperation to avoid that, and instead took the hit upon her forehead.

 _The sound-_ it seemed to start in her brow, at point of impact, and then resonate through her entire head. The blow made her vision flash white, and then her eyes forgot what their job was to plunge her into blurry darkness that swam with fuzzy flashes. Another hit- the back of her head, landing hard against something cold and solid, all while her ears sang the highest note they knew. She tried to move, but limbs flailed and fumbled as she only _now_ put together that she was no longer upright and on her feet.

Another hit- a foot? To her side, pitching her over and sending her back to the cold surface that was the only stability within her perception.

 _Darkness. The void. Screaming, ringing silence and unknowable shapes in the dark._

Next she knew, she was on the hard concrete floor, and Cartman was talking to someone... who? Kenny, yes, she heard the voice, heard his name. He was pissed. She could hear the anger in his voice, the way his tone dropped down a few notes or even a full octave when someone had him properly pissed off. She couldn't quite put the words in order, but she felt as if she _urgently_ needed to get up. Where were her limbs, again? Ah, also on the floor, where it appeared she'd ended up drooling a little bit. _Ew._ Okay, hands under the shoulders, knees sliding under the hips, _yes, that's how you get up to a crawling position- **holy shit that's dizzy.** Someone make the room stop spinning. _

She wanted to groan, or maybe just throw up, but Cartman's grating voice was going now, and it was _invasive._ It intruded into the agony that was her head and mixed up senses, and demanded that she blink against lights that felt entirely too bright and get her bearings. Her body and head twisted, searching for the source of his noise, to find him behind her, next to a cage with a angry-looking fluffball inside it.

He was turned away from her, using _her_ phone. She recognized the case.

 _Bitch, don't touch my things._

She shifted her feet beneath herself, using a nearby shelf to help lever herself upright- the room _spun_ as she did so, another wave of nausea reminding her _really, she would feel better if she just stayed on the ground,_ but she had better plans. Lurching forward, she released the shelf that had been her crutch to upraise both hands, interlace her fingers into a single mass above her head, and bring the ball of knuckles down upon the back of Eric Cartman's skull.

The hit had been solid, and made him cry out in pain, and she heard her phone clatter to the floor. Had he dropped it? She didn't know, needing to focus on her feet for a second to keep herself from toppling over with the force she'd channeled down on the back of his head. One, two, three steps were stumbled backwards before she found that shelf again and _clutched_ it with her right hand. When she got her eyes to co-operate once more, _looking_ at him, she saw that he'd twisted around and was now holding his head with the hand that had been previously occupied with her phone. His chubby face was folded into an expression of surprise and _rage,_ splotches of red drawing up into his cheeks. "Awe, man, you were just _playin' dead?_ FUCKIN' WEAK!"

In his other hand, she realized, he still had the metal bat. The one that had hit her. The one that had left her dazed and lumbering about like Frankenstein's monster. Fat fingers tightened upon it, and he began to lift it in a threat.

" _WENDY?!"_

The call was still going! All at once, she knew what she had to do- and so did Cartman. His eyes went wide and he dove for the floor to retrieve the dropped phone to end the call before Wendy could give away their location.

"PUBLIC LIBRARY!" She roared out, despite how it made the ringing in her ears and the throbbing pain in her skull even worse. "BRING HELP!"

She wasn't sure if she'd yelled fast enough as Cartman's bulk skidded on the floor. The metal bat went with him, still held in his chubby baby-fat fingers.

 _It didn't matter_ , she saw a chance and decided to take it. Cartman was down on the floor, man-handling her poor phone and trying to push himself back up to his feet. Throwing herself forward again, Wendy abandoned the stability of the shelf to position herself and draw her foot up to execute a kick that had all the force of a winning shot at a professional soccer match- and his head was the _ball._

Cartman yelped, rolling away and only catching _part_ of the hit- though it still made him _squeal_ like a pig. Wendy felt a flare of victory... before she over-extended herself and found herself falling backwards onto her butt.

Tailbone made a hard impact with concrete, throwing her breath out of her lungs and making her gape to get it back while her stomach roiled in argument against her disoriented brain.

" _YOU FUCKING BITCH!"_

Diaphragm still constricted, still fighting against taking a full breath, her chin upturned to see her adversary had regained himself and now gripped his weapon with both hands, lining up at an imaginary plate to slug her into next Tuesday... _and many Tuesdays thereafter, all spent in the coma ward at a hospital._ In the split second she had to react, she threw herself upon the mercy of the concrete floor, grazing her elbow on the process.

 _CRACK!_

Metal-on-metal rang through the basement room; she'd gotten out of the way and Cartman's swing had instead struck one of the shelves behind her, right on the corner where a wrought iron pipe was one of the main supports of the structure. The sound stabbed into Wendy's ears, bringing on a fresh wave of dizziness and making her clutch her head.

" _Wendy? Wendy, where are you?!"_

"Eh?"

A confused note came from nearby, from Cartman as another voice intruded upon this conflict. She hadn't noticed it among everything else, but Cirrus was barking up a storm again... had he ever stopped? She couldn't really remember, but the point was that someone else was entering the basement, _and she was pretty sure she knew the voice._

Either way, she took her opportunity where she could get it. With Cartman distracted, she forced one hand out to once again shove herself away from the ground and dash around the cover of the shelf, into a different narrow aisle where Cartman wouldn't be able to get a full left-to-right swing. It wasn't perfect protection, but it got her out of the immediate line of fire while she tried not to upchuck her lunch onto her shoes.

At this point, she finally put together who it was that was coming down the stairs, all while shouting for her.

"Stan? _STAN, OVER HERE!"_

Oh dear god that _hurt_.

" _SERIOUSLY?!"_ Cartman bellowed. " _ASSHOLE, YOU WEREN'T INVITED!"_

 _Way to give your position away._

* * *

[Received, 5:12] WENDY IN TROUBLE  
[Received, 5:12] PUBLIC LIBRARY  
[Received, 5:12] CARTMAN  
[Received, 5:12] MEET YOU THERE

Stan and Kyle had been with Wendy's parents when Dee's texts came through. They had originally picked the boys up from the community center after they'd called and asked about Wendy, finding out that, no, her parents hadn't seen her after school, either. After a short discussion, it was agreed that they'd come get them, and then they'd all go to the police station to file a missing persons report for Wendy, but with a text message the wheel was turned and the gas was punched to head for the library instead while Ms. Testaburger called 911 to report a kidnapping in progress. Getting to the library had taken less than a minute, and while they were _supposed_ to wait in the car until the police arrived...

 _Yeah, no,_ Stan wasn't waiting. The moment the vehicle stopped moving, he was out of the vehicle and dashing through the impressive double-doors of the South Park Public Library. It was late afternoon, technically closing time, but he didn't _care_ when the librarian gave him the stink eye.

"Have you seen a girl with black hair and a purple hat? Wendy? A-and a fat kid? A _really_ fat kid?" He asked breathlessly, and entirely too loudly.

" _Shh!"_ The woman behind the desk scolded him, the many wrinkles of her face coming together into a scowl. Then, perchance a touch begrudgingly, she pointed him in the right direction. "I saw the girl, she went to the basement." The old woman answered in a much softer and _slower_ tone, leaving Stan _bouncing on the spot_ as she carefully enunciated each word. Half-way through the syllables of _basement,_ he got the picture and was sent dashing off again.

" _STAN! Stan, wait up!"_

Kyle's voice, coming up behind him, getting another sharp _SHHH!_ From the librarian and caring just about as much.

Stan didn't wait; he had too much adrenaline pumping through him, too much raw _need_ to get to Wendy and _help._ He neither knew nor cared what this was all about, he'd just been told that someone he fucked cared about was in trouble and he wasn't going to wait for the South Park police to _un-fuck themselves_ and show up with all the urgency of an overgrazed cow.

Particularly not with Cartman in the mix.

He arrived at the door to the basement, throwing it open and taking the creepy wooden stairs two at a time. There was metal guard-rail that he held onto as he rushed down, glancing out into the room below and not immediately able to see anyone between the selves.

There was a might _CRACK!-_ a painful and violent sound of metal on metal, one that nearly made him slip off the steps and left him _clutching_ the guard rail for a few precious seconds before shouting out into the space _"Wendy? Wendy, where are you!?"_

There was a delay where he was left with nothing but his heart beating against his ribcage and the sound of a particularly _yappy dog_ losing its shit before, "Stan? _STAN, OVER HERE!"_ Was shouted back.

" _SERIOUSLY?! ASSHOLE, YOU WEREN'T INVITED!"_

Cartman's shouting didn't matter to him; he was dashing down the rest of the stairs to go after Wendy's voice, mostly unaware that Kyle had been at the top of the stairs at this point. Hitting the bottom landing, he began to jog along the ends of the rows of shelves, peering down the aisles until- _there- there she was!_ All the way down at the end, sitting on the floor, leaning heavily on a shelf.

"Wendy!" He eagerly called out, throwing himself into a full sprint now.

The closer he got, the more he saw Wendy wasn't doing so great. She was bleeding from the forehead, with a large zone of redness besides that was swelling up. She looked like she was going to be sick; her face pale and twisted up with fighting nausea. He was just about close enough to slow down and ask what he could do to help, if she was _'okay' …_ when Cartman stepped out from around the corner.

 _He had a fucking metal bat._

He'd hefted the thing up above his head with both hands, looking like he intended to bring it down upon Stan's head just as he arrived at Wendy's side. His appearance made Wendy jerk, lurching out of the possible impact zone as Stan pulled up short, watching Cartman drive the weight of the weapon down for it to hit hard against the concrete and once again send a sharp _CRACK!_ through the basement room. The sound was different this time; rougher, the sound of metal vs. stone, not metal vs. metal, and it made the fat boy curse.

" _Can't you gais just hold the fuck still for two seconds?!"_ He snarled, winding up for another swing. There wasn't enough space in the aisle for a traditional wind-up, so he was lifting it up above his head again.

Stan hunched his shoulders and barreled into Cartman's chest in a full tackle, knocking the fat fuck off-balance and sending him backwards, onto his ass. Hands that had been repeatedly jarred by hard impacts lost their grip on the metal bat, and the weapon went flying back to hit the far wall.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, dude?!" Stan spat. It wasn't the most horrible scene he'd seen Cartman in the middle of, _but damnit if it didn't feel completely out of left field._ He went from worrying about Wendy _ditching him for another guy_ to suddenly being told that she was in immediate danger from the local psychopath that he happened to eat lunch with on a regular basis. " _Why?_ Why the _hell_ would you _do this?"_

Cartman looked as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, clutching his chest and breathing in short puffs as he found himself displaced to the cold concrete floor, supporting himself in a mildly upright position with his other hand propped behind himself. " _God... God-DAMNIT! You fuckin' gais... fuckin' ruin everything! I needed her to... to show you the_ _ **truth!"**_

"The _truth?!"_ Stan turned his back on the fat fuck to return to Wendy, seeing she was trying to get up to her feet again with the help of a shelf. He bent down, offering himself as a living crutch and flashing her an apologetic smile while he was at it- they were going to need to talk, later, and he was going to be apologizing... a _lot._ She seemed to catch that, and smiled back before accepting his help, her arm sliding over his shoulders and the pair of them rising. "What the hell is _so damn important_ you needed to _assault Wendy with a bat?_ And- and is that a dog? In a cage? What the _fuck_ dude?" He'd been approaching, possibly to give Cartman a kick while he was down, when he finally saw where the crazed yipping was coming from- an adorable Pomeranian in a wire mesh cage that was thoroughly not happy.

"Ms. Misty's dog." Wendy reported woozily. "Cartman stole him to make her act the way she did this morning."

"Wait, _wait..._ so this is all about the _singing contest?"_

" _It's about fucking Douchebag being a fucking liar!"_ Cartman snapped, getting a full lungful so he could screech his accusations, scooting back along the floor to try and get to the wall and his dropped baseball bat.

Kyle appeared from around the corner of the shelf corridor they were all in, no doubt having taken a different aisle to get there. He cut Cartman off from his intended path and picked up the bat himself.

"Keep _talking,_ fat boy." He growled, leaving Cartman whimpering in the middle.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Well that escalated quickly.

The only reason I gave Wendy a concussion is so the fight would last longer than five seconds, because we all know damn well that Cartman is a pathetic physical specimen at best. The fight woulda been no fun to write if I hadn't evened the playing field a tiny bit XD. I know y'all wanted Cartman to get a wholesale beat-down, and while those are loads of fun to _watch,_ they're just not as much fun to write.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	11. Owed Apologies

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Owed Apologies::**

Dee had unzipped her coat at some point during the run from Stark's pond to the public library, allowing a wash of chilled air to flow in and attempt to cool the great burning ball of _fire_ that had flared up inside her ribs. Her hood flapped back, exposing ears and face to the icy chill that was the mountain air as night closed in on the ocher tailcoats of the afternoon. Not that she was looking up to admire the way the clouds flared bright orange at the bottom against the back-drop of a watercolor sky that washed from vibrant red at the line of the horizon, up into a deep navy that would soon be welcoming the shine of stars. No, her head was _down,_ throwing herself into every lunge forward to cover as much ground as possible, as quickly as possible.

Her body protested it- breath burst from her lungs and her heart hammered against her ribs. Even with her coat open, she felt entirely overdressed with the bright blue hoodie she wore beneath and was rarely caught without. _Heat, such heat,_ it radiated up from her legs and vented into her belly, chest, neck, face- _she wanted to roll around in the fucking snow to cool off._

She hadn't had a run like this since she Cartman yanked her hoodie off at school, and even _then,_ she hadn't _sprinted_ the whole way from school. Even if that timeline had been _undone,_ she remembered that run, and it was a lot _longer_ than this one. She'd dashed out of school to escape the humiliation of being ousted before she was ready, _run the hell away_ to escape so many eyes looking at her in shock and surprise... but what was that in the face of a friend being in danger?

What was that in the face of _putting one of her precious few true friends in peril?_

" _Holy SHIT dude, wait the fuck up!"_

Behind her, she heard shouting- Kenny, yelling for her, and it introduced a skip in her step that evolved into a tripping and stuttering slowdown into a jog, her head twisting back to realize that she'd gotten more than a little ahead of him. He was a few yards behind her, calling for her as he made up the distance as best he could.

She supposed she had taken off with all abandon, hadn't she? She forgot that when she really dug in and went for it, even the boy behind _Mysterion_ had a touch of trouble keeping up with her. And yet? The _last_ thing she wanted to do was slow down- they were almost there! Just another block down the sidewalk, under street lamps that were flickering to light with the growing dark. She couldn't stop, but she did hold at a jog until he was even with her once more.

" _Fucking Jesus Christ, take off like the world's ending why don't you?"_ He huffed through his hood, great clouds of steam getting expelled from the clumpy brown faux fur lining. _"Goddamnit, you took this one pretty fucking personal, huh?"_

 _No shit, Sherlock._ She didn't even nod, simply keeping up the forward momentum and pushing the pace a little more. She could see the library building from here. It looked like- _yeah, there were police cars outside!_ Someone must have called the cops- that was good. She also could spy an ambulance, as well as a couple of regular cars.

" _Shit, looks like we're the last ones to this party."_

Kenny's comment carried some note of dread to it. They'd missed the confrontation, which meant they'd had no hand in whatever resulted. What if Wendy was hurt? What if Cartman had done something _terrible,_ as he was known to do? Had Stan and Kyle made it? Were they okay? All of these questions pushed Dee back into a full run, and Kenny was right on her heels without- complaint this time.

They arrived, crossing past the first of the police vehicles, just in time to see Cartman being removed from the building on a gurney. The kid looked to be in _poor fucking shape,_ his face bloodied, black, and blue. His trademark red jacket was torn in multiple places, and his hat was nowhere to be seen. Was he unconscious? It looked like it, but his face might have just been _that_ swollen from all the blunt force trauma. At his side was his mother, looking terrified for her _sweet baby boy,_ sticking to the EMTs as they carried the gurney down the library stairs and then folded out the wheels to roll the rest of the way to the ambulance.

"Kenny! Dee! Over here!"

Yelling attracted Dee's attention away from the front entrance, and over to one of the regular cars. She recognized one as belonging to Cartman's mother, and the other as being the Testaburgers'. One of the rear doors was open on the Testaburgers' vehicle, which had originally blocked Dee's view of anyone who might have been sitting just inside it or crowded around that opening... but Stan had stuck his head out to yell and wave at them, probably having spied them through the tinted window of the open car door.

Dee might have sprung into yet another sprint, but she felt Kenny snatch at her sleeve and pull. _"Walk, dumbass, they're not going anywhere... I'm fucking tired."_

He was right- it looked like everything was all over, anyway. The car door shut as they made their way down the curb-cut section of sidewalk, the occupants that had been sitting just inside stepping out first to reveal it was Kyle and Wendy. Dee had no doubt that Stan had been standing outside the open door to be as close to Wendy as possible, as the girl appeared to be in lackluster shape- not as bad as Cartman, but she'd seen better days. She had a gash on her forehead with some fitful swelling, and she still looked a little _out of it_ by any standard. At current she had a blue blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and Dee noticed as she leaned on Stan for balance. Meanwhile, both Stan and Kyle appeared utterly unhurt, and everyone smiled as they welcomed two more into their number.

Dee bypassed both Stan and Kyle in any sort of recognition, going straight to Wendy and reaching out to grab her by the shoulders and look her in the eye. _Her pupils were huge-_ was she concussed? Well, that explained why Cartman wasn't in a _body bag,_ at the very least.

"Hey, Dee..." Wendy greeted slowly, offering a small smile. "I'm sorry, I got overconfident... I shoulda called for back-up when I realized it was a trap. I-"

Dee shook her head forcefully, _no, no, I won't fucking hear that!_ Curls of red hair fell into her face as she released one of Wendy's shoulders to instead cover her mouth with it, a silent signal to _shut the fuck up._ She wouldn't hear _Wendy fucking apologizing_ when _she_ was the one who should have been sorry. _She_ brought all of this bullshit down. Wendy's eyes went wide when she was forced to stop speaking, eyebrows boosting up towards her hairline, but they settled back down after a few seconds of Dee's intense staring.

Eyebrows sat over wide green eyes like they were ashamed to exist on Dee's face, her brow wrinkling and a deep frown carved down into her chin. There was still heat in her face, but it wasn't from the hellbent sprint to get here; it was from being on the edge of tears.

 _I am so fucking sorry you had to go through this because of me. It's all my fault. This didn't have to happen, and I'm so sorry._

"Dude... what the _hell?"_ Stan quested, watching this exchange with a befuddled expression.

" _Dee's apologizing."_ Kenny explained, as if it were the simplest thing on the planet.

"That's an apology?" Kyle didn't get it any more than Stan did, looking on with bewilderment. "It doesn't look like one..."

"Maybe not to you guys..." Wendy murmured as Dee finally pulled her hand away. "But I get it. It's okay, Dee. No one _controls_ Cartman's tantrums. If it wasn't aimed at you, today, it would have been aimed at someone else on some other day."

Dee still felt it in her gut- that terrible gnawing sense of _guilt._ Even if Wendy told her it was _okay,_ it didn't _feel_ okay. She felt as if she should have been groveling in the snow, begging the forgiveness of everyone assembled... but it appeared that no one else felt that was necessary, so she backed off to stand by Kenny once more. At the far side of this gathering of cars and people, she could hear the ambulance doors closing; they must have been getting ready to go. She peered up at the tall red sides of the hospital vehicle before looking back down to the intrepid trio of Wendy, Stan, and Kyle. With a quirked eyebrow, she asked _What the hell went down? What did we miss?_

"Cartman was being _totally unhinged,_ dude." Kyle explained. "He apparently thought kidnapping Wendy was going to help him _oust you_ as a liar. He kept going on about how all he wanted was to show us the _truth,_ that we couldn't trust you. He sounded _insane."_

 _The truth? What kind of truth was he on about?_ Dee didn't like the sound of that. Cartman was his own special kind of crazy already... but she still worried if _screaming_ at him had begotten any sort of side-effects that would have made him somehow worse. That and, if she was honest, he'd also been involved with almost as many temporal hops as _Kenny-_ not that they'd done Kenny any harm, but the fact still stood. With Cartman's _unique_ way of seeing the world, there was a true and honest concern that she'd somehow _broken him worse than he was already broken._

She blinked at Kyle, silently pressing for more detail.

"I donno, dude, we sorta started beating the hell out of him at that point. We figured he was just spouting his usual bullshit." Kyle shrugged. "The EMTs think we broke a couple of his ribs, bruised a couple organs, and Wendy paid him back for the concussion... a few times over."

"He deserved it." She chimed in, leaning a little more heavily on Stan, now.

"Hey, hey, you're not falling asleep, are you?" Stan asked. "The EMT said you need to stay awake for a few more hours, Wendy."

"I know, I know- you're just _warm."_

 _Goddammit, get a room you two._ Dee couldn't help a faint smile, watching Stan shift to put his arms around Wendy from behind and help her stay upright, and also protect her from the sharpening wind. Stan appeared to experience a moment of peace, a soft smile taking over his face. For possibly the first time in days, Dee saw his expression _free_ of the anxiety that usually plagued it. Wendy all but _melted_ into his grasp, turning her head upwards; either to smile back at him or reassure him that she was keeping her eyes open and staying awake.

Dee couldn't begrudge them. It looked nice. Like they were sharing their own private moment of heaven.

 _Maybe Kenny would like to...? No, no, don't even think about it, this is not the time nor the place._

"Hey, what happened to the dog?" Kyle asked. "Did the police bring it out already?"

" _Dog?"_ Kenny asked.

"Stan carried the cage up when the police arrived, and his name is _Cirrus_." Wendy's attention came back down from Stan's face and returned to the group. "Ms. Misty's dog- Cartman kidnapped him to control Ms. Misty. Pretty much everything that happened this morning was _scripted;_ she was _supposed_ to say those terrible things to piss me off enough to investigate. This whole thing was a set-up for me, and Cirrus was as much a hostage as he was _bait._ Once Cartman had me, he turned around and tried to pass on a threat to Dee that he had to _sing_ for the contest- I'm betting if he tired to do anything else like play an instrument, or brought in a friend to sing for him while he did something in the background, Cartman would have done something... _drastic_ to me as punishment."

 _He figured out that I care about my friends- that if he wanted to control my behavior, you guys would be the best lever to do that with. Son of a goddamned fucking-_

"What a moron- he should know better than to tangle with you by now." Stan scoffed. "You think he learned his lesson this time?"

 _Doubtful. We're more than half-way to that scary thing called adulthood- if he hasn't picked it up by now, I don't think he's going to._

"Now that we've gotten Cirrus out of danger, you should be off the hook for the singing contest, Dee." Wendy added, reminding everyone _why_ this all went down in the first place. "Ms. Misty will let you back out- she only acted the way she did because of Cartman."

"Oh, hey, that's right!" Kyle's tone was of celebration. "Cartman didn't get his way this time! Dude, what are you gonna do, now that the pressure's off?"

Dee supposed that _was_ a thought; Cartman no longer had her under his thumb to force her to preform. She could back out now, no harm, no foul, now that Ms. Misty was free to do her job and remove her from the list _because she didn't fucking sign up in the first place._ Maybe that was supposed to be a weight off of her shoulders, but it didn't really feel that way.

Again, her determination to remain _upset_ about all this was contested by the victorious faces of her compatriots. As far as they were concerned, they'd won. Cartman was hospitalized, their friend was free to not do something they didn't want to do, and an innocent dog got to go home to his owner. All was well with the world.

Her answer to Kyle's question was a shrug. She didn't know, and she felt too fried to think about it. Her mind contained other worries, other questions; things that would probably keep her awake entirely too late tonight.

"I'm just wondering what the hell sent Cartman of the deep end this time- he seemed _really_ pissed at you, Dee." Stan observed.

 _Yeah, about that..._

Dee glanced back at Kenny, who blinked at her before nodding and stepping up. _"You guys remember the mock trial? When Cartman got the evidence thrown out, Dee dragged him to the bathroom and shouted at him- threatened him until he agreed to throw the trial."_

" _Huh?"_

That was a surprise to the trio, eyes snapping to Dee, who had to fight against the urge to look down at her shoes. All the same, she stuffed her hands into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater, ignoring the pockets of her big black coat, which had begun to sluff off of her shoulders.

"Dude, you didn't have to do that." Kyle reminded. "When Kenny brought Kevin back, he had all the evidence we needed to force Ms. Lehman into a plea bargain."

" _He didn't know that at the time. He was angry."_

Something seemed to click into place for Wendy, the girl blinking as the last gear snapped into place and a beautiful machine began turning within her head, spitting out answers to questions she'd been asking herself over the day's events. "... guys, do you remember at the mock trial, Dee's behavior... had an _effect_ on the crowd? He didn't say a word, but... well, the mob was with him throughout his whole testimony."

"Huh...? I guess." Stan sounded skeptic. "But Dee's just really expressive with his face. We get what he means all the time, and he doesn't have to say a word."

" _So what happens when he does?"_ Wendy asked pointedly. "If he's _that_ persuasive without saying anything, how powerful is his _voice?_ Like... _legit_ super power, if _him_ talking has an effect on the human brain, and he _screamed_ at Cartman-"

" _You think he fucking broke the fat fucker with his voice?"_ Kenny interjected.

That was pretty much all of Dee's fears laid bare, sussed out by her friends.

"Dude, I wish I had super powers." Kyle briefly bemoaned his own lack of supernatural abilities before getting back on topic. "I guess it kinda fits with the social media stuff, though- when you think about it, the whole internet _is_ a mob, and Cartman is disturbingly good at _forming_ mobs, and that crowd at the trial was nothing less than..."

" _A mob."_ Stan agreed, putting it together as well while eyeing Dee with curiosity... and maybe a touch of apprehension. "Dude, South Park makes mobs like a box factory makes boxes- if Dee's real super power is influencing _the angry masses,_ no wonder he's so effective on the internet! Kid needs a 4chan account."

"But I thought it only worked on Instagram and Facebook?" Kyle quested.

"No, we've been testing it in other online spaces- it's pretty much ubiquitous anywhere there's a crowd... which, online, is anywhere that isn't a private one-on-one chat." Wendy shook her head. " _His parents_ assumed it only worked on Instagram and Facebook, but that was just their respective takes on it... and he's not even all the way grown up, yet. It's possible the power is maturing with him."

Dee found herself glaring. _Could you all please stop talking like I'm not here?_

"It's all just theories, though." Wendy added, a note of dejection adding to her general tone of exhaustion. "But screaming at Cartman...? Super powers or no, that explains why he was angry enough to do all of this."

"Okay kids, time to go home." The voice of an adult interrupted the group's discussion, heads turning to find Mr. and Mrs. Testaburger returning to the vehicle after finishing up with the police. The ambulance was pulling away from the curb, too, taking Cartman for medical care. It was Mr. Testaburger who had spoken, though the look on his face was less than happy- Dee imagined that the police were being obstinate about pressing charges against Cartman, _they always were._ Someone always just tried to pass it off as _boys being boys,_ or, now that the PC Super was making sure everyone kept it equal, _kids being kids._ "The car only has five seats, though, so we can't give everyone a ride home."

" _That's okay."_ Kenny put his hand up, volunteering to walk. _"Dee and I can walk home- we ran here, we need a cool-down anyway."_

Dee nodded in agreement; Wendy had gotten the worst of this, and she doubted Stan would consent to leaving her side right now... and if Stan was going in the car, so was Kyle. They sorta _had_ to be the odd ones out, and she didn't mind it. The joy of living in a quiet mountain town was that home was never particularly far away.

"Thanks, guys." Kyle smiled as Stan opened the car door once more and helped Wendy in, following in after her to take the middle position on the back bench seat. "We'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?"

" _See ya, dude."_ Kenny agreed, waving as Kyle got in and shut the door, the Testaburgers taking the front seats and needing only a moment to roll the engine and drive away. The police were loading up, too, getting ready to head back to the station. In a few moments, the public library was deserted, barely remembering the activity that had occurred only an hour before.

On this quiet, empty street, Kenny held out his hand to her.

Dee blinked, not quite expecting it... but taking it, all the same.

" _Think your parents will let me spend the night on the couch or something? My legs are tired..."_ He asked as they started down the street.

She shrugged- if she threw her weight behind the request it was probable. Particularly if she asked Dad, he wasn't good at saying no to her.

"... I think we can make that work."

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

CARTMAN IS A BLOODY PULP, AND WE DISCUSS DEE'S ABILITIES. OH, HAPPY DAY

And no, I am not going to confirm nor deny any of the particulars of how Dee's abilities work. Y'all can speculate, but I'm not gonna be layin' any of the fine details out. That wouldn't be any fun.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	12. Delicious Cheesy Goop

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Delicious Cheesy Goop::**

Dee spent the majority of the walk back to her house texting her mother, explaining why they were late. At first it seemed like she _might_ have been in trouble, but the phrase _I had to help save my friend from an attempted kidnapping_ really was the fast lane to the moral high ground in any argument. Exonerated from any possible punishment for being an hour late for dinner, a few more messages were fired back and forth before her phone was tucked away and she could simply enjoy the walk through town.

" _What's the word?"_ Kenny asked, investigating whether he'd have to hoof it home despite his sore legs.

Dee didn't speak; they were returning to the residential side of town, where people were more likely to be since it was still early in the evening. She'd taken her hand back a few blocks ago, as much as she didn't want to. Between the rising wind and her heart rate finally dropping back down from the mad sprint she'd undertaken, her big black coat had been pulled back up around her and zipped up, fluffy hood flipped over her head to protect her head from the chill. She had to turn her head all the way to him before her face came into full view behind the soft fake fur, but when she did she flashed him a _smile._ Her mother had told her it was alright.

" _Sweet."_

She nodded in agreement, but her movement felt sluggish and clumsy. Even expressing herself was an action that had taken on a certain amount of _sludge_ in the way that nothing felt like she had exact control over it. Not so much the stiffness of muscles or the fatigue of her body, but something that existed within her _brain_ as well, slowing things down as the pair of them proceeded down the block towards her house. Was she worried? Was all of this _stress_ over the events of today? Or were the revelations about her possibly doing damage to Cartman's fragile and _utterly insane_ mind wearing on her more than she expected? Even as she tried to unravel these things, she couldn't even find a thread to begin pulling on. Thoughts fell apart as she attempted to construct them, and she found herself almost painfully chewing on the inside of her cheeks all the while.

Very near to her home, Kenny gave her a nudge. _"Hey, you okay in there? I think I see smoke coming outta your ears."_

Dee drew a sharp inhale; the closest she came to an audible gasp, while jerking her head to look at him and blink. _Huh?_ Was all that was painted on her face, complex thoughts beyond her.

" _Dude, you're exhausted. Give it a rest."_ He advised, the two of them turning up the walk to Dee's home- where the outside light was on, but the inside lights appeared to be off. Had her parents already gone to bed? That was a _little_ early for them. Then again, she really didn't want to deal with her mom doting or worrying about her right now, so maybe it was for the best. With a sigh of recognition, that Kenny was probably right and she just needed to fucking relax, she took the lead and opened the front door, holding it for him and motioning him inside.

Upon arrival, it appeared that her mother had already made up the couch; a red sheet had been tucked over the cushions, and a pair of fluffy white pillows had been piled atop a blue folded up comforter, the whole stack sitting in the middle and awaiting use. The lights were off, the house was quiet, and the smell of creamy white sauce and herbed chicken still hung in the air from a meal that wasn't too terribly long past. Dee took the time to heel-toe out of her shoes, proceeding to the kitchen with full intent of digging into some leftovers before anything else became a concern, and Kenny was right behind her.

Lights were flicked on in the kitchen, and Dee found that her father had already portioned out the leftovers to individual screw-top containers in the fridge. Two were pulled out, unscrewed, and sent to the microwave as rote action; sheets of pasta swimming in cream sauce and cheese with chunks of chicken sounding about as good as it got right now. There was green stuff in there too- had he added spinach? _Good call, Dad, gotta get the veggies in there somewhere._

Once that was going, Dee finally reached to take off her big black coat, hands fumbling with her hood and unzipping the thing, but her fingers appeared to be bum when it came to actually getting the thing off. A brief difficulty in slipping her shoulders out turned into a flash of extreme frustration, the same motion attempted again with an equal amount of success. All at once, it was as if her body had forgotten how to do something as simple as _take off her fucking coat,_ and the feeling of _rage_ that resulted was irrational and sudden as she audibly _growled_ in the back of her throat, jerking and _ripping_ the thing off of herself as she finally got a grip and escaped the heavy garment. Success was expressed in vengeance, throwing her beloved jacket as violently as she could through the open portal that led back to the living room.

" _... you need to sit your ass down, man."_ Was Kenny's observation, standing next to her throughout the display. He might have even been moving in to help her, but she hadn't noticed over the hostile takeover that was her own inability to accomplish something so simple and menial. _What the fuck was wrong with her?_ It was the sort of feeling that would have left a less reserved person to scream aloud and possibly punch a wall- but even as that impulse stampeded through her brain, she had to curtail it, _swallow it back,_ hold the enraged and raw sensation within her own ribcage and refuse to indulge it, clenching her jaw tight to _contain_ it.

The beeping of the microwave finishing its job made her start, some overly raw instinct demanding she _throw_ something at it to make it be quiet.

She don't know how he did it- how he just _knew_ what was on her mind and preempted her, but Kenny was between her and the appliance in a heartbeat to pop the door and make it stop it's electronic noise. Then, just as quickly, he turned back to her and took her by the shoulders. _"Hey, hey... easy. It's okay."_

 _It's okay?_ She silently questioned him, lips tugged down and nose crinkled up in a sneer that lacked the energy to be disdainful, only managing _disheartened_ at best. _How can you say it's okay? **I don't even know what's wrong.**_ She tried to look him in the eye, be _direct_ in her confusion, go running back to that strange place she'd been with him just the night before- but meeting those pretty blue hues did something else to her. She saw the concern in his half-hidden face, and it made her face turn warm in the worst way.

Not for the first time this evening, she had to swallow over a lump in her throat, and she quickly dropped her chin to her chest to hide behind wild curls of candy-red hair.

 _Cock-sucking whore with a mouth full of hepatitis, am I tearing up again? **This is stupid!** Everything is okay, Wendy is okay, Cartman is down for the count, so why the hell do I feel like I'm on the edge of oblivion, here?! _

" _It's not your fault. You didn't know what was going to happen."_

 _That's no goddamned excuse. Not when it effects everyone I give a damn about._

The _it's not your fault_ excuse didn't hold water for her- she should have _known_ better than to give in and yell at Cartman just because she was mad at him. She didn't have the right to take that kind of risk.

 _I'm_ _supposed to be fucking responsible, damnit!_

She couldn't make it stop. Tears welled up in her eyes, and escaped as she screwed her eyes shut and attempted to force it all back by the sheer power of her will. She shook as her fists clenched at her sides, shoulders tense and her head tucked down as tight as she could manage, as if all these things would some how bottle up the maelstrom that was already leaking out through her eyes.

Ribs shivered as she held her breath, but finally she was forced to give way to the reflexive action of _gasping in,_ a wet sob produced in the process.

She felt herself getting tugged upon; shaking shoulders reminded that they were held by someone else, and said someone else pulling her forward until her forehead made contact with the cheap fabric of a bright orange coat... and, perchance more importantly, the warm mass of the person wearing it. Eyes blinked open, tears shaking free of her lashes and plopping down to the tile floor. Her perception was limited to the pressure on her forehead and the blurry vision of their socked feet nearly touching at the toes- his, all ratty and gray, a hole in one that let his big toe show through. Hers? That bright electric blue; her favorite color.

" _It's not easy."_ He noted, quietly.

They both knew that. Having powers wasn't a _perk,_ and it didn't come for free. They were still _human,_ and they had to live with the things they did and didn't do. Dee knew that, of course.

But this was probably the first time she didn't get to be the _hero._ The majority of her life, when things were happening around her, it was her actions that fixed them, and she always had that at the end of the day. Whatever she did, whatever choices she made, she had her own victory as the justification for it.

That wasn't true when she screamed at Cartman- Kenny and Kevin had saved the day with extra evidence. If she'd just sat on her hands and let things happen, things would have played out exactly the same. Worse, she'd _caused_ this chain of events... and didn't even get the chance to clean up her own mess. Stan, Wendy, and Kyle were the heroes today, _they_ had the victory that she so desperately craved, because it would make her feel like she'd still gone vaguely in the correct direction.

That was the raw truth of it all- she fucked up, and she didn't have any justification for it. Nothing good had come of it. No silver lining, nothing that suggested the fuck-up would somehow lead to something new or good in the future.

She blinked, sniffing hard as droplets continued to rain down off of her face; some falling directly form her eyes, others clinging to her cheeks before the dripped off of her chin, leaving stinging trails along the way.

" _I did it wrong."_ She whispered.

* * *

Kenny really didn't talk that much- it wasn't so much a general rule as it was just the way things tended to work out. Sure, he spoke up when he knew the answer to a question, or had something witty to share, but beyond that? He tended to be pretty fucking quiet; maybe that was why his friends were so good at forgetting about him.

Now? He felt as if that trait were working against him. The fact that his girlfriend – _pretty sure he was safe calling her his girlfriend at this point –_ was crying against his chest left him with an uncertainty on exactly what to say. He knew the kind of hell _his_ abilities put him through, but hers was of a different sort. She had the ability not just to influence others, but to monkey with time itself. In years previous, she occasionally ripped time for utterly petty mistakes, un-doing and re-doing things until they went _correctly_ in her perception.

 _Irresponsible_ was the word for it. He had been among those who had lectured her on it- that it was fully possible that people working against her were collecting data every time she hopped about on the timeline, and were developing a way to nullify that ability so that she could be more easily captured. A paranoid consideration, maybe, but safety required a touch of paranoia every now and then... and to her credit, she had been making an effort to change her habits, to not be so frivolous.

She wasn't used to making mistakes she couldn't fix. It was a perfectly human experience, to mess up and have to just accept it and move on- but that wasn't _her_ experience. This was new, unpleasant, _outside of her control._

" _Fucking up is part of life."_ He informed her, oddly blunt considering her state- didn't matter. Dee wasn't the sort for pussyfooting, and he wasn't going to start now just because they were _involved. "You can either work with it, ignore it, or obsess over it. Pick one."_

He felt the _jolt_ that went through her, more a sensation than a physical motion. Nothing seemed to change, though; she kept crying, her head remained down, and she wasn't saying anything.

 _Maybe she just needs to cry. Karen gets like that, sometimes- where she knows what she has to do, but she just needs to cry for a while._

His hands shifted with that thought in mind; from holding her shoulders to rubbing over her upper back; something to remind her that he was there that was silent and soothing. A quiet comfort as she contended with her own internal mess.

He found, more often than not, just _being there_ was worth more than all the pretty words in the world. She'd done that for him, not to terribly long ago. She'd held him, let him be _vulnerable_ for a second, and said something that had hit him harder than any speech about life being hard and the need to just buck up and deal with it.

" _I'm here."_ He told her, just as she'd told him.

Her own hands reached out, slipping their way around the narrow span of his ribs before coming to rest on his back, a sort of loose hug being shared between them with her head in the middle of the protective shell it formed. It may have been a minute or so more after that, but the shaking began to abate and the sniffling faded away. Slowly, her head lifted up, and he was able to see the tear-streaked mess she'd become.

" _Better?"_ He quested.

"... sorta." She answered softly. "Hey, sorry, but... I wanna clean my face..."

The unspoken part of that was that she didn't want him to think she was running away from the affection he'd decided to express, and he let her go without argument. She bustled towards the kitchen counter where there was a standing dowel of paper towels; she pulled a few off and used them to wipe away tears and snot, blowing her nose vigorously before the whole mess got deposited into a trash can under the sink. As she worked at not looking like she'd just been bawling her eyes out, he turned his attention back to something he was mostly certain would help- _food._ Retrieving the containers from the microwave and finding which drawer had spoons in it took him about as long as she took to return to a _mostly human_ state.

He figured they'd take their microwaved meal up to her room, but she led him out to go sit on the couch instead, taking her container of creamy goo, cheese, and pasta and a spoon from him upon arrival and flopping down with a long and deeply felt _sigh-_ one he mimicked as he took the spot next to her, shoving the pile of bedding off to the side to make room.

 _Holy fucking hell it had been a long-ass day._

"... I guess all of this means backing out of the contest." She mused, it seemed more to herself than to him- then again, she'd said it aloud. "It's... the responsible thing to do. I donno how it'll effect the people listening."

" _You didn't wanna do the contest anyway, though."_ He pointed out, tugging his hood down and pulling down the scarf he wore under it before wolfing into... whatever it was Dee's dad had made. He called it an Alfredo lasagna? It was creamy and cheesy with chunks of chicken and spinach in-between thick bits of noodle- read also, _fucking delicious._ He wasn't going to argue with it. Two monstrous bites later, he was actually thankful that it got to sit in the microwave for a while- it would have been volcanically hot if they'd tried to eat it right after reheating. Swallowing hard, he added, "Guess it feels different when you've got a choice, huh?"

"Yeah." She agreed, nodding a bit. She hadn't even started on her food. She was leaned back into the couch, spoon in one hand, container of goopy goodness in the other- but green eyes were staring off into space from their puffy sockets. "And... well, some people were excited about it. I heard plenty of kids talking about it in the halls."

Oh yeah, he'd heard plenty of the chatter. Some kids were downright _giddy_ to hear Dee sing- though it was mostly the girls who were making a big deal about it. "Wanna do it together?" He suggested. "We can split the prize if we win."

She scoffed. "I think the whole damn school will be disappointed if I step up there and don't open my mouth."

"Fucking sucks to be them." He smirked. "You're already known as a _massive troll._ You could walk right onto stage, even stop in front of the mic for a sec, then go pick up a set of drums or some shit- I don't fucking know, play the fucking bugle with your asshole or something."

He saw it- a smile sparked across her face, and she had to turn her lips inwards to clamp down and resist laughing aloud for a moment. "Hey, _hey,_ that takes _talent_ my good sir- don't you dis my skills on the horn."

"Hey, _I wasn't there,_ I had to hear about it second-hand from the other guys." He scootched a foot her way, giving her a nudge. "Are you going to fucking eat? Your dad's shit is gonna get cold."

She sputtered, all the old habits in the world being the only thing that stood in the way of her indulging in a full on belly laugh. Still, a face that had been red with tears not long ago was now crimson as she had to drop her spoon and cover her mouth, a sort of hiccuping giggle coming from the back of her throat. _"My dad's shit? Is that what we're eating?"_

"I didn't say it wasn't _delicious shit."_ He batted back with a smirk- it was funny to see her try so hard not to _express..._ and much like when Karen cried, it was a personal victory for him to get her to smile.

" _Oh my... oh jeez... heh..._ I'm gonna tell him you called it that." She promised while trying to sober up, picking her spoon back out of her lap to finally dig in.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

I swear to god, this scene wasn't supposed to take up the whole chapter. I wanted to have some cooldown time with Dee and Kenny, talk about the singing contest, and then pagebreak into the next morning... and then Dee had an anxiety attack and a whole bunch of feels, and here we are.

Yay?

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	13. New Ideas and Old Ground

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – New Ideas and Old Ground::**

Where Dee's parents had disappeared to was revealed before she finished eating by rhythmic thudding and heavy breathing that reverberated through the ceiling of the living room. It was something that made Dee arch her eyebrows, but it hardly surprised her- she certainly knew that if _she_ had a kid, _she'd_ take any evening that said kid was expected to be out late to be loudly intimate with her partner. They must have been so focused on foreplay that they hadn't heard the front door when she and Kenny arrived.

Kenny, already through with his container, looked up and appeared... _confused_ before a lecherous grin stretched across his face. "Oh, man, your parents still _do_ each other that hard without _fighting_?"

She had to admit, they were rather _vigorous_ for their age, if sound was anything to go by. It almost sounded like the set of a bad porn, only the voices were much more legitimate in their enjoyment. "They generally don't fuck at all when they're mad at each other." She informed before quickly wolfing down the rest of her reheated meal so that the containers could be put away.

"Heh... my parents usually have to spend an hour _screaming_ at each other before they go at it like this. They're usually high, too." He noted, blunt in the fact that his family seemed to share more in violence than anything else. She supposed it was just how it went when you had a family and were stuck on the bottom rung- shit was stressful, that had to _go_ somewhere. She felt like she should have said something, but it really wasn't her place to speak- she'd never lived that life. She didn't know just how bad that could be... just guess at it from the outside.

Still chomping on the last bite of her food to chew properly before swallowing, she collected Kenny's spoon and tupperware as well before proceeding to the kitchen to drop the dirtied dishes in the sink. He'd followed her, despite having empty hands. "So, what now?" He asked her as she returned on her path, the pair of them stalled in the doorway between living room and kitchen. "Wanna go play games for a while?"

"In the room next to _that?"_ She pointed upwards, seemingly at the exact moment her mother kicked up the volume- _Saddam at a Canadian gay bar, they were fucking_ _ **going for it**_ _tonight._ "Yeah, no thanks. C'mon, we're going downstairs."

"Your house has a downstairs?"

She scoffed softly- she supposed she'd never showed anyone the basement, not even him. She slipped by him, leading the way to the basement door just off the living room, to which he said; "Oh, I figured that door was just a closet."

" _Nope."_ She answered, revealing the way down with the flick of a light-switch. It was a lot like the basements that other houses on the street had, with a set of wooden steps going down into a room made of cinder-blocks and concrete, with the space directly next to the steps occupied by the furnace and water-heater, supporting beams, air ducts, and pipes lining the ceiling as they branched off to all the necessary parts of the house.

Beyond that, however, was where _customization_ came in. "Dad tried to make a home gym down here, but he never used it." She explained as they came down the steps, waving out towards the equipment that occupied the majority of the space; an elliptical machine that faced the wall and had a small TV installed in front of it for entertaining the person using it, and a bench-press kitty-corner to it with a set of weights for the bar from five pounds to fifty. Finally, in the smack middle of the room, hung from one of the heavy beams that supported the ceiling, was a large punching bag with a number of discolored spots that marked a great deal of abuse from _someone..._ just not her father.

Nope, this was her place. _That_ was reflected in further decoration; advertising posters she'd gotten from their local game store whenever the new hotness cycled out; currently a great big banner for the latest Street Fighter currently stuck to the wall next to the elliptical machine and a cardboard cut-out of some famous wrestling dude from the latest WWE flattened out and duct-taped behind the bench-press. White Christmas lights had been strung between the beams of the ceiling and insulated pipes to create a sort of canopy of of their gentle, warm glow. A number of Chinpokomon were lined up on a workbench that took most of the wall the elliptical was faced towards. Said work bench also had a few notebooks scattered on it, covered with odd thoughts and spontaneous doodles, and a small laptop was plugged into the same outlet as the TV, a HDMI cord connecting the two so she could use the TV's speakers for music or audio books she was listening to, in order to get better projection of the sound, or watch YouTube play-lists instead of TV while getting her cardio in.

" _Dude."_ Kenny sounded just a tad _awe-struck_ as they hit the bottom of the stairs, looking around at what she'd done with the space. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? A couple of bean-bag chairs and this would be a kick-ass hangout."

"I don't come down here to hang out." She stated to him in a matter-of-fact manner. "I come down here to _work out..._ or think, depending on the night. I've never brought anyone else down here."

He blinked- he seemed to _just now_ comprehend that the work-out equipment wasn't just gathering dust. She was using it.

"How much can you bench?" He suddenly asked, as if they didn't regularly make a sport of lifting and throwing heavy things together. She got the feeling that he didn't often think of _girls_ and _hardcore work outs,_ and as he adjusted his image of her to _being a girl,_ he was having to confirm and re-confirm what exactly it was she _did_ on a day-to-day basis. She'd bucked his base assumption about her, that she was male, only weeks ago. Now all of his other assumptions were stuck in the _'oh shit I don't know what to think'_ gray area of _not having a box to put her in that made sense._

"Let's just say if you held _very still,_ I could press you for about twenty reps and not give a fuck... assuming you're as _light_ as I think you are."

"... sometimes, you scare me."

"I _should."_ She smirked. "I can be pretty scary when I want to be. _But hey,_ this is a pretty good place to kill some time without all the _awkward noise,_ so... _hey_ , I'll get some tunes going." At that, she made for the cruddy little laptop that sat at the end of the workbench, flipping it up and waking it up from sleep mode. Its main function was keeping her entertained while she put in her daily sweat, and it had been sitting on her Audible collection when the screen came to life with at least a dozen dead pixels scattered through the dirty display. Closing that, she had to wait as the little thing struggled to open her media player in any sort of timely fashion, leaving her on the desktop for longer than she wanted while Kenny _sidled up to peer over her shoulder and see an oddly sexy pair of fox-people doing naughty things as her background._

"What's that?"

She pouted, giving him some serious side-eye. "It's _furry porn,_ what does it look like?"

"No, _that?"_ He pointed at one of the icons she had on her desktop while her media player _still_ too its sweet time loading up.

"Eh? Oh, Audacity." She shrugged; the icon stood out among what was mostly folders with no titles because _she_ remembered where everything was based on screen position. "It's a free audio editing program. I rip a lot of music from YouTube and I use it to cut off stuff at the end, like artists thanking their followers, or the extra space where a song repeats and they show annotated links to other shit. Sometimes I even play with music for fun, kinda remixing? It all sounds like _shit_ though, and I don't care enough to get better at it."

He accepted this information with a nod as her fucking music finally loaded up, and she busied herself with making a play-list as a way of disengaging from the conversation for a moment, perchance mildly embarrassed about her choice of desktop image... or maybe just that _he_ saw it. Not so much that there had been shiny cartoon dick and titties on her screen, but rather the fact that it was of the _anthropomorphic_ verity.

"Do you have a mic?"

Well, if he thought it was weird, he'd skipped right over saying so and into a completely different lane of ideas. _"Hm?"_ Her head twisted back to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Not a _good one,_ why?"

"I just had a thought, about what we were talking about with the others, before..."

* * *

Wendy had gone through what was properly termed as _a long fucking night,_ and the use of an expletive was completely necessary after she'd gotten beaned in the heat with a metal bat. Thankfully, the cut on her forehead was superficial, and the EMTs were confident that she'd be okay after some rest, which was why she was allowed to go home... with the promise that she'd be looked after, and rushed to the hospital if there were any changes to her condition. Her parents had been uncertain, but Stan had volunteered for the job within a heartbeat, coming home with her after her parents dropped Kyle off at his place.

They'd sat with her parents and watched some bland TV for a while, but when it was announced that they were heading to bed... well, a certain _conversation_ had to happen. It was inevitable, yet awkward. Still hanging out on the couch in the family room, some show they didn't care about playing on low volume in the background, she found herself _looking_ at him more than she was the screen. She'd stare a few seconds, glance away, and then look back, certain that she'd just caught _him_ looking away at the same instant.

It was only a matter of time until one of them lingered too long, either by chance or choice, and was caught by the other. Wendy decided it would be by choice, and stopped herself from the impulse to _jerk forward_ and _pretend_ she was interested in whatever was playing on the screen. She held firm, and Stan looked.

 _Bam, arrested on the spot._

"H-hi."

She giggled. She supposed that was better than him spontaneously getting sick on the family room carpet. "Hi yourself, _hero."_

"Hey, it wasn't that much... I mean, he was tired by the time I showed up." Even as he tried to be humble about it, his cheeks had colored, eyes ducking down to study the pattern of the couch cushion between them. "I just... y'know, struck the final blow, I guess."

"You showed up in a nick of time, and I get to thank you for that." She batted back. She didn't want to admit it aloud, but things had gotten dicey down there; she had no idea if she would have recovered enough before Cartman finally caught up to her with that bat. If Stan and Kyle hadn't showed up when they did, Cartman might have done a lot worse to her than a concussion.

"Listen, Wendy, I..." Stan shifted on his side of the couch. Her parents had _insisted_ on them sitting apart from one another while they'd been in the room, and they'd remained in those places after they left out of pure _awkwardness._ She noticed now that he was actively leaning on the arm-rest, as if he were trying to distance himself from her. "I... I wanna say something. And it might upset you, so... I just... just want to say it's because I wanna be _honest,_ okay?"

She blinked, her head cocking a little. She could always get behind _honesty,_ but the way he phrased it made her worry. It was like he was damning himself before he even got started, predicting failure so it might sting less when it occurred. She could understand the strategy, but it wasn't a healthy one.

This was the opportunity; the chance to move closer to him without it being totally obvious and weird. Where she could reach out, gently put a hand on his arm, and smile her reassurance to him. "It's okay." She told him. "Go ahead."

Even as she told him it was alright, he didn't look at all confident. She watched him chew on his lip, mouth opening only for him to close it again, teeth clicking together in the process. There was a war within him on which words were the right ones to say- and even if he had the _right_ words, there was the additional question on how to say them... and she observed in silence as he fought himself back and forth on the issue, a _whine_ emitting from the back of his throat while his brows knitted together and his lips turned inwards for him to press them tightly together before letting out a sharp sigh.

Finally, he spoke.

"Kyle and I only called your parents because I was worried you'd ditched practice to hang out with Dee."

The fact was spat out as if it were a bad taste in his mouth, sputtered and pushed because it was unwanted. A _thing_ he felt he had to own up to, but knew full well that doing so might damage his standing in her mind.

It was a thing Wendy had to process for a moment. She was aware that the only reason Kyle and Stan had gotten to her _so quickly_ is because they were already with her parents, having called them when she hadn't shown up to practice. The fact that it had been begotten of Stan's anxiety, of his _certainty_ that he was going to be abandoned for someone she wasn't even interested in was... _conflicting_ to say the least.

"Explain?" She asked, wanting more details before she made a judgment.

"Well, after you and I talked and I found out about the note you sent Dee, I went to go talk to him at school... _I know, I know, you..._ you just wanted me to _trust_ you, but... I just wanted to see it- I couldn't make myself _stop_ wanting to see it. So I asked Dee, and he agreed to sent me a picture of it after school... but he didn't. Then I got to practice, and you weren't there, and _no one_ had seen you since school, and... I-I manged to hold it together until after! But then... I called Dee. I yelled at him, I acted like you _had_ to be with him, because where else would you be? And then we all realized _no one_ had seen you since school ended, and Kyle thought you might be in trouble, and that's when we called your parents."

Once he got going, it was like the breaking of a dam. Things he had to _fight himself_ to say poured out of his mouth until his crimes against her were laid bear, the fact that he _hadn't trusted her_ like she asked... but his insecurity had _led_ to him being there quickly enough to stop Cartman from trying to mash her face with a baseball bat.

"Listen, _Stan..."_ She honestly didn't even know what she was going to say, even as she began saying it. She felt like she had to say _something,_ though, because leaving him to hang like this was just cruel. She had to play these things against each other, give him credit where he was do- both in rushing to help her and in being honest with her... but the fact that something as simple as a _paper note_ had sent him so thoroughly up the wall when they weren't even _together_ was...

 _Was exactly the sort of thing she was afraid of. The usual shit, the same shit from back in the day in new context._

" _I know."_ He murmured, his head turning away. " _You can't fix me._ I... I figured you'd say that, and I wanted to say that's okay. I... I get it. Just because it _saved the day_ today doesn't make it _okay._ "

" _Hey!"_

She yanked on his arm, forcing him to look back at her and bringing him up off of the arm of the couch. Concussed or not, she refused to let him sink this whole conversation with his damn _pessimistic determinism._

"Don't put words in my mouth! That wasn't what I was going to say at all!"

"But it's _true!"_ He batted back. "It's not your _job_ to make me feel better- if I can't handle _maybe_ being with you, it's not going to get any better when I _am_ with you, I'll just worry and panic and- and- _I don't know if I can handle that. It hurts. I hate it, I hate being like this, and I can't make it stop."_

All at once, she reached out for him with both hands, seizing his face. Palms actually squished his cheeks together for a second before getting a better grip around his skull and jaw. It was self-sabotage; they'd had this _wonderful moment_ while waiting for her parents to finish talking to the police, where he held her and all seemed right with the world... and now? Was he so scared of _losing it_ that he'd rather _throw it away from himself as hard as he could?_

She wouldn't have it. She wouldn't watch him do this to himself.

Sitting in her family's living room, she kissed him.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

AUUUGHH I HATE WRITING MESSY RELATIONSHIPS

But... if Stan and Wendy's relationship _wasn't_ a goddamn mess, it wouldn't be Stan and Wendy. It's just... my brain _struggles_ with it so hard, I see where they're going wrong, _I want to write it going right..._ but if I did, it would be out of character, and there's a much ANGRIER part of my brain that just won't have _that,_ either.

So here we are, with Kenny and Dee possibly brewing up a little experiment and some Stendy drama for y'all.

With any luck, this installment of The New Kid Stories will be done in another two chapters or so. I honestly feel like I had the right set up to end it _next chapter,_ but that was before I added the Stendy stuff because running to the end that quickly just felt _sloppy and rushed._ It didn't fit my sense of flow... which apparently rules my life. XD

 _ONWARDS_

- _Buttlord_


	14. The Unexpected Can Be Good

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – The Unexpected Can Be Good::**

"So Cartman's going to be stuck in the hospital for _two weeks?"_

"Yeah- I guess one of his cracked ribs might have poked into his lung? So he's gotta stay for observation to make sure he doesn't need surgery." Kyle reported. "I... guess we sorta beat the hell outta him, didn't we?"

Kyle's voice was of an entirely different tone than last night, when he'd stated that fact as if it were a badge of honor. Dee would still argue that Cartman _fucking deserved it,_ but she could understand not being proud of excessive action taken in a moment of passion. Really, last night felt mildly surreal when compared to the entirely mundane experience of getting up in the morning to go to the bus stop, even if Dee herself had changed up her morning routine to actually make sandwiches for breakfast, if only so she was assured that Kenny _ate_ something that day after spending the night on her family's couch.

Then again, she supposed it wasn't much different than any other time life in South Park got disrupted. Barring extreme destruction of the school or other parts of the town, they pretty much always lined up for the bus the next day, with or without any number of their group's usual members. It was the point at which the cycle just began again, and life moved on, regardless of what horrors had been undertaken before.

"Hey, he fucking started it!" Stan defended in an instant, face twisting with anger. " _He_ kidnapped that poor dog, _he_ manipulated Wendy into a trap, _he_ did all of this- all we did was give him his just desserts." Even as he said it, the righteous fury could not be maintained. Furrowed brow gave way to a somewhat exhausted emptiness as the fire left him in a sigh. "... _and then some..._ I guess... I mean, once he was down, we didn't have to hit him all the extra times... I just wanted to make sure he wouldn't get up. And I wasn't gonna stop Wendy- she was _mad."_

"She had the right to be!" Kyle agreed. "But..."

Dee and Kenny had been quiet all this while, aware of where that _but_ led; why Stan and Kyle couldn't hold fast to the feeling that they'd done the right thing and nothing else. Neither said it, but all of them were thinking it:

 _But what happens when Cartman comes back?_

"... he's gonna kill us." Stan muttered.

" _Or worse."_ Kyle murmured. "... maybe someone else will piss him off before then? He'll get distracted?"

"Don't count on that!" Stan batted back. "He's probably plotting the doom of all of us as we speak. He doesn't give a fuck about missing school, but the dance is _Friday night;_ he won't forgive missing that, not when the signing contest was such a big deal to him."

Not for the first time at this bus stop, Dee felt like the odd one out. Kenny, Cartman, Stan, and Kyle had _grown up together,_ their dynamics defined when they were still in _pre-school_ as far as she was aware. There was years of experience behind the fear she was listening to, years of _abuse_ that left the boys around her shuddering in the certainty that something horrible was going to befall them the moment Cartman was once again able to move about under his own power, if not somewhat before. She'd heard _stories,_ been a _bystander,_ but this whole mess was one of her first experiences of being directly within Cartman's cross-hairs.

It was a nightmare. A horrible goddamned nightmare, one that refused to end even after the monster was beaten back and taken away.

"Well, _Kenny_ doesn't look worried." Kyle pointed out.

" _Kenny_ didn't beat the hell out of Cartman with a _baseball bat."_

" _Doesn't mean I fuckin' wouldn't have, if I'd been there."_ Kenny pointed out, the sound of a sneer coming through his hood. _"Fucker would gotten his kneecaps shattered."_

Dee could agree on that point- if she'd made it in time for the beat-down, she probably would have borrowed that metal bat to use as a pestle to grind Cartman's hands into bloody mush and bone dust... but she hadn't, and it was easy to _imagine_ cruelty when the opportunity to carry it out was not immediately in front of her. She could imagine a number of things she wanted to do to Cartman's soft, shitty body, each torture more terribly exquisite than the last, and not a single image of it disturbed her because she knew he deserved every little thing she could possibly dream up, and more.

"Heh, Wendy actually suggested that." Stan mentioned. "The police found us before she could grab the bat, though."

"Oh, hey, how is she doing?" Kyle asked. "Is she okay?"

"O-oh, uh, she's... she's fine. _Great,_ really, I hung out at her place until it was okay for her to sleep." Stan's face found itself smiling, to the apparent surprise of Stan himself as his gloved hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. "We _talked_ for a while, and... she asked me to go to the dance with her, as her boyfriend."

 _After all that build-up, I feel like you should be shouting and jumping for joy... tch, who new Stan was so bloody bashful?_ Dee's head tilted out to peer at their resident lover who always seemed to be getting the short end of the stick in that department of his life. He _was_ happy, of that there was no doubt... but there was something else to his eyes, a pull to his cheeks, that suggested not all was perfect within this new relationship. Something was _bothering_ him.

"So you guys are back together again? Don't you think that's a little _fast?"_

" _Huh?"_ Stan's head cocked a touch. "Waddya mean, it's not like we just broke up a week ago."

"No, no, after a seriously high-stress situation- Cartman tired to _bash Wendy's head in,_ you swooped in to save the day, and just... suddenly dating? Doesn't that sound like you guys might be riding the rush a little more than following your own feelings?"

"M-maybe, I guess..."

 _Jesus, Kyle, just skewer his anxieties right on the spot. Need a fire for that angst-kabob?_

"But... sometimes riding the rush _feels good."_ Stan added, seeming to find a little more certainty as he spoke. "Wendy and I spent some time _talking_ last night, too... I'm thinking I might see a councilor about how I... _freak out_ about things. Turns out the church offers some mental health services for free, so long as you don't miss your appointments, so... uh... _yeah."_

" _Holy shit dude, what? Seriously? That's great!"_

The bus line suddenly _collapsed in_ around Stan, becoming a knot rather than a line, with Stan securely at the center of it. Kyle had a hand on his shoulder, body bent as if he were still recovering from the impact of the news. Stan, meanwhile, was standing a bit taller, as if the burden of finding the right way to say it had been lifted off, though there was also the _shock_ of becoming the center of attention all of the sudden. It was Kenny who had cried out his support instantly, and Dee found herself _grinning_ in this sudden huddle.

"Man, why didn't you tell us right away? That's big news!" Kyle added.

"W-well... uh... I felt like going to see a professional meant I was kinda... _crazy._ I was a little nervous to say it, I guess, in case you guys thought... well.. y'know." Stan's face had dropped to face down towards his shoes, shoulders coming up into a sort of shrug, but not _crunching_ together as if he felt under attack by his friends crowding around him. If anything, Dee detected a sort of _relief_ in his posture; no doubt his poor anxious brain had played out a thousand scenarios in which this _didn't_ work out, Kyle _did_ think he was crazy, and his most important friendship was once again in peril despite his best efforts... and really, it was Kyle's opinion that matters, _Kyle_ was the first person that Stan looked up towards, flashing a befuddled smile as he let out a little derisive chuckle. "C'mon guys, back off, it's starting to feel kinda gay."

 _Get over it, we're happy for you, you damn basket case._

" _Everyone's a little gay, dude."_ Kenny snickered. _"Get the fuck over it and feel the love for five seconds."_

"Hey, hey, _you_ decided this, right? Not Wendy?" Kyle asked, remaining nearby even as Dee and Kenny relented, as told.

"Yeah, this was me... but she helped me find the phone numbers and all that."

Kyle nodded, satisfied. "So long as she's not picking stuff _for_ you, I'm all for it."

"... _thanks."_ Stan uttered, hesitating before he managed to form the word properly, a genuine warmth behind it that was not unlike a clean towel fresh out of the dryer. "You... you guys are great."

The bus arrived shortly thereafter.

* * *

If rumor was to be believed, Eric did something _terrible_ last night, and ended up in the hospital. Butters couldn't help listening to rumors; they were just so darn interesting... and this didn't sound that far-fetched, considering Eric. _What_ the terrible thing was, on the other hand, the jury was still out on. Generally consensus was that he'd kidnapped someone, but whether that someone was a teacher, a student, a dog, or the principal depended on who you asked. Either way, it seemed it hadn't gone well for him.

Walking through that kind of buzz, it was hard not to be a little _excited,_ caught up in all of it. He found himself arriving in the science room and feeling an odd sort of _thrill_ when he saw that Cartman's seat was indeed empty, confirming at least some small part of the whispers of _didja hear_ and _didja know_ flying back and forth between kids. Coming to his own table, sitting down next to Heidi, he couldn't help turning her and asking. "Did you hear? Eric's in the hospital!"

Heidi, sporting her usual green shirt with a large pink-petaled flower on the chest, leaned back in her chair, seemed _bored._ Her head was relaxed back, light brown hair stretching down over the back of her seat as her gaze focused dully on the ceiling. She had her hands in her lap, idly twiddling her thumbs, though they kept crashing into one another. "Good for him." She stated without interest.

"They say he's gonna be gone for _weeks-_ he's gonna miss the dance! Poor feller..."

Heidi's eyes closed a moment, lips pressing together before she leaned forward, momentum carrying her chin down to regular level before she gave him a proper amount of attention for a conversation. "Speaking of the dance, how'd it go?" She quested.

Butters had to blink for a moment. _"How'd it go?_ How did what go...?" He mused, unsure at first to what she was referring... until he recollected to the day before, and the anxious ball of energy he'd been on the subject of publicly showing the rest of the world what he had known for a long while- that he was a touch bi-curious, and that he liked Dee.

For some reason, that felt like a _long_ time ago, but it had only been a day. A _long_ day he supposed, of waiting, of watching over his phone, but then he'd found himself invited out to be given an answer. It hadn't been the one he'd hoped for, nor one he expected... nope, things had been just a touch more _complicated_ than that. More than that, however, he'd been trusted with something quite special; the trust of Dee and Kenny to keep their relationship a secret.

Somehow, everything before that point had briefly vanished from his conscious attention, choosing instead to enjoy the memory of being with his friends at the pond, looking out at the sunset.

" _Oh! That!_ Uh... well, Dee an' I met up later, and he said no."

Heidi's eyebrows raised up, surprised. "Really? He _said_ no?"

"Well, in his way, y'know? But we're still friends, so it's okay." Butters assured as the warning bell rang, sending students skittering to their seats.

"Really?" She asked. "Just... he said no, and it's no big deal. It's all cool. Just like that?" She didn't hide her confusion. It might have been a touch incredulous.

"Just like that." He nodded. "I'm not gonna loose a good friend over bein' said no to, that'd just be silly."

"Doesn't it make things _awkward,_ though?" She pressed. "I mean, the next time you guys hang out, you're telling me you won't even _think_ about the fact that you had feelings for him? And it's not going to make you even just the _slightest bit_ bitter?"

"Nope!" He chirruped back. "He's not sad, so why should I be sad?"

Heidi blinked at him for a moment or two, not seeming to comprehend how it was he was just so... _okay_ with all of this. Honestly, he found her bewilderment more confusing; if he liked someone enough to ask them out, why would it be bad to stay friends? Sure, he still thought Dee was dependable and pretty, and the feelings that motivated to ask in the first place were still alive and well... but those feelings of _liking him_ were also attached to the feelings of cherishing him as a friend. There was no reason for them to exist in separation to each other, and there was even less reason to drop a friendship just because an attempt at romance didn't pan out.

Besides, Dee had treated him with respect. That was worth something. A lot, actually.

"I guess... well, I guess there isn't a good reason." Heidi admitted, lips pursing together again for a second. "I'm just used to hearing about things being a lot _messier_ whenever things don't work out. I'm used to things _being_ messier when they don't work out."

 _Oh. Right. Eric. That was some nasty business, wasn't it?_

"Has anyone asked you to the dance?" He asked, more _wondering aloud_ than anything. He hadn't heard about Heidi dating _anyone_ since the mess with Cartman... then again, rumor tended to be more occupied with her _weight_ than her _love life,_ and it was really more the girls at school who kept up on who was dating who all of the time. For all he knew. Heidi had a special friend, and just hadn't mentioned it.

"Huh? _No."_ Her face puckered, as if she'd just put something sour into her mouth, her body leaning back and her head drawing even further away than that. "I'm not _going._ I've got better things to do on a Friday night and listen to bad singing and dance to crap school-approved music."

" _Oh._ Well, I was just thinkin' if you didn't have anyone to go with, me and my buddies are all getting a ride together and comin' as friends, an' I could ask them if you could ride with us, too, if you wanted."

More blinking. More of that puckered, surprised face that couldn't believe... what? That he was being nice to her? What was wrong with being nice?

Her mouth opened, maybe to answer him, but the final bell signaling the beginning of the hour blared instead, and their science teacher, Ace, came sweeping up one of the aisles between the tables to get the day started, and he wasn't the sort to talk out of turn once class got going. Instead, he just flashed Heidi a smile, and turned to face forward.

Whatever she was going to say, it would just have to wait until work time.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

So basically my take on Heidi is that post-Cartman she rejected the victim-hood thing so strongly that she has endeavored to make herself into that image of an utterly independent woman, but she's done it _in spite of Cartman,_ not necessarily because that's who she really is on the inside. Basically, in her desperation not to be the monster Cartman made her into at the end of the recent season, she's gone running _all the way to the other end of the spectrum,_ and that's not exactly a really healthy thing, either. It might _look_ that way from the outside, in the way that she's gotten fit, takes care of herself, so on and so forth... but she's also trying to take on the world alone, and speaking as someone who tried to do that in my own personal life at that age... it doesn't work. XD

I intend to dive into her character more in a later story, because I think it's gonna be full of feels.

Also I wanna squish Stan forever. I'm up through season 3 of watching South Park and the more I watch, the more I'm excited to continue writing everyone and exploring the places their characters can go.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	15. Experimentation is Key

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – Experimentation is Key::**

" _Wow,_ this is a pretty cool set-up, Dee. It's like a secret base."

Wendy, Kenny, and Dee had all gone straight to her house after school in the little time Wendy had before she needed to meet up with her group to practice their piece for the contest. The day had passed mostly without incident; unsurprising since Cartman was out of the picture. Ms. Misty wasn't back at work just yet; the PC Super still had to suspend her for misconduct, but that gave her more time at home to love on Cirrus after he'd gotten kidnapped. Word had gotten out that Dee had turned Butters down, but that they were still coming to the dance together with a group of friends, which the majority of the girls in school agreed was just _oh-so-sweet._ With Cartman gone, Butters had come to sit with them at lunch, and talk about the invitation that he'd extended to Heidi; one that Dee and Kenny accepted without hesitation, as neither of them had anything against Heidi... and the more people were in the carpool, the less anyone would suspect they were _together..._ though it sounded like Heidi was still undecided on whether or not she was going to the dance at all.

It was also at lunch that Kenny asked Wendy if she'd brought the 'thing' he'd asked about- they'd texted her the night before, asking if she had a decent microphone they could borrow. The answer was yes, and plans had been made to get together once school let out... plans that led here, with Dee leading Wendy down into the basement of her house and Kenny bringing up the rear.

 _Jeez guys, it's just a basement room with some old Christmas lights, it's not that big of a deal._ She shrugged, coming down to the base of the stairs and coming to stand next to the punching bag in the middle of the room. Turning around, she gestured towards the shitty little laptop on the workbench to the right of her, signaling that's where she wanted the mic. Wendy didn't catch the gesture at first, still looking around, eyes sweeping up and around the space before doing as bidden and heading for the workbench, lifting her backpack onto it and unzipping it to retrieve the device.

"So what do you guys need this for?" Wendy quested. "I didn't ask last night because I was a little... _distracted,_ but..."

" _We heard from Stan- you guys are back together."_ Kenny cut right to the chase; as if it hadn't been a touch obvious at lunch. Wendy still sat at her table with the girls, but she and Stan had been together in the lunch line and sharing smiles that stretched ear-to-ear... a feat for Wendy, considering she'd been saddled with a lovely white square of gauze in the middle of her forehead which had prompted _everyone_ to ask her the same questions over and over and _over_ again all fucking day. To her credit, she'd not devolved into the annoyed scowl that usually went with that kind of repetitive explaining, holding her composure throughout... and getting her enjoyment where she could, it appeared.

A silver microphone produced from Wendy's pack, along with the pieces of a stand, and a black foam filter to go over it once it was set up. "It's still a tentative thing." She admitted after a moment, assembling the stand without looking back at her friends. "Stan isn't feeling entirely sure of himself, and I have to admit I'm not one-hundred-percent certain, either. It feels like a gamble, but... I don't know, it felt like the right time to _try."_

Behind Wendy's back, Dee found herself sharing a glance with Kenny. She could sympathize with that feeling; the urge to try something even though she was scared... but her fears were more nebulous things, difficult to define and mostly effects of social pressure. Wendy and Stan faced conflicts from _within,_ not _without,_ where it was Stan's anxiety was the monster; not a creature to be slain nor overcome, but a constant resident to be mollified and managed.

There was something brave about loving a person who struggled with themselves like that... and even braver was Stan; trying despite being afraid.

 _Respect,_ Dee realized. That's what she felt, far more than sympathy.

" _We're going to use the school dance to run an experiment."_ Kenny explained in his usual, muffled way as Dee mused. _"And if it works out the way we think it will, Dee's going to try and make peace with Cartman."_

The stand, only half put together, suddenly clattered to one side as Wendy pulled a 180, face composed in wide-eyed surprise. "Make _peace_ with Cartman? After he-?!"

Kenny put his hands up, silent body language to remind Wendy that she was among friends; she didn't have to go on the warpath to make her point. _"We know, we know, but we also know Cartman. If something isn't done, this is just going to keep escalating, and the_ _ **last**_ _thing needs is an active rivalry with Cartman. It'll cause trouble for all of us in the future. She... basically wants to take one for the team, in her own way. I didn't like it either, but... it makes sense."_

Wendy digested that for a few seconds, jaw loose and mouth somewhat agape as it processed. She glanced towards Dee, then down, then nodded to herself before her chin rose up once more. "Explain." She demanded. "Tell me what the plan is."

" _I got the idea to use the singing contest to see if Dee's voice still has power, even if it's recorded and distorted. We're going to record her and then mess with it, and see if it still has an effect- basically, Dee's going to try and rig second place at the singing contest. If it works, we know that even a distorted voice can gain a very specific effect. If it doesn't, we know that Dee can use a distorted voice to talk to people without subverting their will- either way, we learn something."_

" _Second_ place?" Wendy quested. "Why not first? If you're already going to mess with people, why not make yourself win?"

 _Well, he didn't say it was **me** who'd be taking second place, but... additional to that point- _Dee scoffed softly, and then gestured to Wendy while wearing a somewhat smirking smile.

"Oh, I guess, it would be a little unfair... I didn't even think about it, but Stan and the others really think we've got a shot at the prize." Wendy nodded, following so far as she leaned back against the surface of the work bench, her hands coming to the edge as she balanced on her heels, toes coming up from the floor. "Plus you tend to sway people your way, anyway, whenever you make an appearance. Second place would be _out of the ordinary._ Better target. Okay, I get that."

" _It's more than that."_ Kenny added. _"Back when she was really young, Dee lived in a town where she did talk every now and then- she was a kid. People who heard her speaking, just randos, not even people she spoke **to,** became obsessed with her- like... mad groupie obsessed, breaking into her house and shit like that. They didn't even know what they wanted, they just wanted to be close to her. Apparently, shit got... pretty fucking fucked." _

Unhappy memories, but Dee had passed them on to Kenny when _she_ had to explain this plan to him. The original experiment, to mess with her voice and see what happened? That was his idea. Once she'd _accepted_ his idea... she began thinking further, and her own ideas began to take form, on how the results from the experiment could be used to her advantage.

Much like her initial reaction to his idea, he hadn't exactly been so keen on hers; lest, not until she explained.

"I... I never knew." Wendy murmured, new information seeming to send her into a brainstorm, but she shook her head to clear those clouds away for another time. "So what's the point of this? See if her voice can be used in a more... subtle way?"

" _Yeah, that about covers it; if that shit's possible, then Dee figures she can turn around and get Cartman to get off the fucking warpath."_

Wendy was quiet for a few seconds, considering what she'd been told. Then, slowly, forming the thought at she spoke it, she asked; "If that's the case, then... Dee, why don't you just try to _fix him?"_

Eyes widened a moment, and Dee shook her head viciously from side to side. _Hell no!_

" _Screaming at him made him attack you in attempt to get to Dee."_ Kenny pointed out. _"Amateur verbal rewiring of his brain? Might be pushing it, and fuck if we all know what lard-ass is capable of when he's blown a fuse."_

"... I... _suppose_ that's so." Wendy agreed, sighing softly, though there had been a particular spark in her eye just a moment ago; as if she'd seen the path out of all the shit Cartman had ever done, and it was on the back of Dee's abilities. " _Damnit,_ being a moral, upstanding citizen who doesn't mess with unethical brain-tampering can feel pretty stupid sometimes."

 _Tell me about it, Wendy. God fucking tell me about it. Much as I'd like to just **trail-and-error** my way through Cartman's braincase... asshat is still human, no matter how fucked in the head he is. Besides, treating him as a guinea pig would put me dangerously close to **mad scientist** territory. _

"Lemme finish setting this up for you guys." Wendy finally said, her agreement implicit as she returned to putting the mic stand together. "I'll show you how to get the best quality out of it before I head to practice."

* * *

Homecoming meant the dance was decked out in school colors- green, white, and black. A great many kids went to the football game associated with it; the first at-home game of the school's football season, which just so happened to be against their Middle Park rivals... which meant a number of older boys on the varsity football team showed up both late and limping, and the boys who had tried out and ended up on JV or didn't make the cut were thanking their lucky stars. The cafeteria had been cleared, the round tables moved into the gymnasium were a number of simple refreshments were being sold as fund-raising for the football team's equipment and transport, and the bench style tables arranged to border a large square that was the official dance-floor. Doors to the majority of the rest of the school had been closed and locked, minus the door to the guidance office, which had been set up for less social kids [see lame] to sit and watch movies rather than interact with their peers.

A stage had been set up at the edge of the dance area, with the DJ in a booth just next to it. The stage was all that could be expected of a public school function; a wooden riser with some colored lights rigged above it, a black curtain in the back to provide a little blocking, and a stand microphone in the middle.

Frankly, Wendy was a little _nervous_ for Dee to go on. Considering the fact that she had tried to do her hair around a fucking patch of gauze and make it look good due to Cartman's recent behavior, she couldn't help _fearing_ what effect the experiment would have on the assembled students... as well as _herself._ Was this the sort of thing that could be defended from by knowing about it? What effect would a song even have?

What song was Dee going to sing? Well, _lip sync_ to, since Dee and Kenny had recorded their audio before-hand. Here was betting Kenny was going to sneak behind the stage and fiddle with the speakers to make them play the file they'd put together, rather than the karaoke version of whatever song it was Dee picked- then she'd just have to move her lips and try not to rush it or lag behind too much- or kill the mic and whisper. All were viable strategies, but thinking about the mechanics of _how_ it might be done didn't make Wendy freak out any less.

She'd warned both Stan and Kyle the night before; Stan had brought earplugs for them all... just in case.

Their science teacher, Ace, appeared on the stage about an hour into the festivities, calling for students who were participating in the singing contest to gather up and get ready next to the stage. Dee, the first kid on the sign up sheet thanks to Cartman, was placed at the front of the line as the first act... she hadn't dressed up. At all. Nope, she was in her usual; baggy black cargo pants, baggy electric blue hoodie, and her big curly billow of red hair barely contained in a low tail. Whether she looked nervous or not was up for debate; she'd resolved into that dead, blank look she got sometimes when she just _didn't give a flying fuck..._ or she was keeping her poker face on because she wanted people to _think_ she didn't give a fuck.

Nerves were building. Excitement. Bebe was chattering away with the other members, giving something of a pep-talk; they were forth in line to preform, but it was important to keep anyone from chickening out between here and there. In front of them was Jimmy, intending to sing something from Weird Al Yankovic's impressive discography if rumor was to be believed, and his girlfriend Nancy hanging about to pump him up for it. Between Jimmy and Dee was an upperclassmen Wendy didn't know... or didn't she? It was a strange sort of sense that she'd seen her before; a skinny girl who gave her the distinct impression that her name was _Summer..._

She must have seen that name on the sign up sheet or something, seen her when everyone had been crowding around. That explained it.

" _Five minute warning, everyone. Would everyone performing in the singing contest please queue up next to the stage? Last call to performers, last call!"_

Wendy had tuned out pretty much everything, fingers idly playing over the skirt of her dress. She'd worn a light yellow dress, with white lace, and pretty pink flowers embroidered on the thin shoulder straps. She'd been so excited for Stan to see her in it, and to spend this night with him, but all of that had fallen away from her perception at this point to instead stare on in worry as Kenny approached the line, appeared to have a silent exchange with Dee that didn't even contain basic head motions for her to interpret, and ducked back into the small crowd of kids that formed right in front of the stage speakers to feel the bass reverb through their rib-cages. It was just about showtime; he needed to hijack the sound to help her pull their experiment off.

 _Maybe I should stop them. Maybe Dee doesn't realize how dangerous this is. I bet I could take on Kenny- if I told Stan and Kyle right now, they'd help, I bet-_

She found herself surprised when one of her hands was taken away from her dress, fingers replacing folds of fabric. She glanced to the side... and found Stan, offering her a little smile.

A _supportive_ smile, she realized. In fact, he didn't seem worried about this at all.

 _I know more about it. I've been around Dee more often. He isn't worried because he doesn't fully understand._

Even as the voice in her head rattled off reasons to continue to freak out, she smiled back at him and squeezed his hand.

… _then again, no one knows the dangers more than Dee does... I should trust her._

" _Hey, South Park Middle School, how are we feelin' tonight!? It's time for the annual Homecoming singing contest! Now, I'm sorry to say that our beloved team, the Cows, suffered quite the defeat at the football game... but we can turn those frowns upside down, can't we?!"_

A cheer actually went up from the students on the dance floor, and more were crowding in from other areas. Ace was... surprisingly motivational for such a little lady in a middle school teaching position.

" _That's the spirit!"_ She trilled over the microphone. _"Now, without further ado, let's get this contest started. Who's ready for Dee?!"_

 _Here we go._ Wendy told herself. _Showtime._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _I SWEAR TO GOD I DON'T DRAG THIS STUFF OUT ON PURPOSE._

Okay my dears, the next chapter is gonna be the last chapter on this story. After that, **there's going to be a short break as I prepare for a vacation with my family and get the next story ready.** I'm gonna be honest with y'all, the plot of _this_ story changed like... four times. As I was writing it. I'm going to put the extra effort into the next one to get my outline proper such so I don't write myself into any dead-ends on accident.

As always, I want to thank everyone for their continuous support of my work, and the most kind reviews I've been receiving throughout.

 _ONWARDS_

 _-Buttlord_


	16. The Dance END

**:: Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – The Dance::**

The first sound that came out of the speakers sounded like the glitched out sound file of a car crash. It was screaming, loud feedback and wrenching, tearing noise amid pops and digital hiccups; a terrible noise that made all onlookers cringe and cover their ears while the trio of teachers in the back, the ones who were supposed to be judging, looked to the DJ and glared. The DJ shrugged, jabbing his fingers at buttons on his computer to no avail.

The sound lasted for maybe ten seconds, and cut out.

 _All according to plan._ Dee thought to herself, having arrived on stage. She looked at the mic, as if she were nervous about it... and maybe she was. This was a big risk. Her parents were going to be properly pissed when they heard about it- somehow she'd managed to keep all of this a secret in the days prior, she and Kenny doing all their recording after-hours.

Now that she thought about it, she had a lot of things she'd been hiding in the past weeks that her parents were going to be mad about when they found out. She knew that _trust_ was supposed to be a big thing in their house, that they wanted to support her and help her with her troubles... but they also weren't big advocates of learning more about her abilities. No, they rathered that she _didn't_ explore them, because that exploration was possibly dangerous to their family.

She needed to show them how much good it could do before she told them. She needed a tangible result before she included them on this conversation.

Thoughts that raced through in the quiet after that terrible, terrible noise that had coursed through the speakers; one that contained a few very specific commands buried in it. Oh, yes, that distorted, garbled mess had been her voice, overlaid with a few other sounds and then messed with until it was nearly impossible to recognize. In those ten seconds of auditory agony, she had hoped to convey exactly how she wanted this performance to be taken not to anyone's conscious brain... but to their sub-conscious. To their gut feelings, to their intuition.

 _She didn't want them to realize she'd messed with them._

Glancing towards the DJ, she gave him a look like _can we go, now?_ Knowing full well he wasn't actually in control. Kenny had hijacked the audio as she'd been climbing the steps up to the stage. The DJ nodded, flashing her a thumbs-up that said _yes, we're going._

She faced forward again, tapping the mic with her finger- that was Kenny's signal for him to press the button and get things going.

It took everything she had not to crack up while she did it. The crowd in front of her had no idea what was coming. She knew full well the anticipation that had been building up this whole week, people whispering about the fact that _Dee was going to sing! We're finally going to hear his voice!_ And the arguments of _You know he's just gonna troll us, right? That jackass never takes anything seriously._

 _Oh shit it's hard not to smile right now._

Dee picked up the microphone, cleverly switching the thing off as she did so. Now, even if she did give into the face-splitting force that wanted her to fall apart into the giggles of a good prank, no one would hear her over the blasting stage speakers... which had begun playing a shitty 80's synth tune that pretty much _everyone knew._

 _If they don't, they'll know it by the fucking chorus._

Opening her mouth, she began to lip sync while the music hit.

" _We're no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I."_

Dee's voice on the track was... purposefully bad. Starting out with the fact that she really _had_ no vocal talent, and then they had to mess with her voice to make it sound lower, more masculine... and, well, she sounded like an adolescent boy with no musical training. Which, in the eyes of her peers, she was, so it fit.

Beyond the stage lights, she could already see flashes of recognition. The teachers, specifically- some had already put their faces into their palms.

" _A full commitment's what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't get this from any other guy."_

 _Oh my god I'm gonna lose my shit... fuck, fuck, fuck, keep a straight face, Dee, you can make it._

More students were catching on to the tune... one they most often heard via practical jokes on the internet. Heads were turning to one another, no doubt some people having a _tip of the tongue_ moment and relying on their friends to try and figure out _what this fucking song was._

" _I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling, gotta make you understand..."_

 _Here we go, motherfuckers._

" _Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna-"_

The sudden sound of booing was possibly louder than the stage speakers.

 _Rick Rolled, bitches!_

* * *

"I don't understand, I thought Dee's singin' wasn't too bad."

"It's a terrible online joke, Butters. People trick other people into listening to that song because _no one wants to listen to that song."_

Heidi couldn't say she was particularly _surprised_ by Dee's choice in music. Plenty of kids already thought that the boy was gonna use the opportunity of a singing contest to troll everyone... and his voice hadn't been anything special, either. Just... a guy, with a voice. Maybe a little deeper than expected, considering the kid's smaller-than-average frame.

"I didn't think it was so bad... I sure bet Kenny's sorry his missed it, though- talk about a bad time to need to go to the little boy's room." He looked over to her, flashing the same goofy smile he always gave her in class... the one that _might_ have been responsible for her being here currently, wearing a pastel pink dress that she usually reserved for church. She'd been picked up by Butters dad before the dance, having let Butters know during school _today_ that she'd bought a ticket for the event and that she was taking him up on the offer. With Butters sitting up front, she'd joined Dee and Kenny in the back seat... and the four of them got a 'friendly talking to' from Mr. Scotch about how to stay safe during a school dance, with Butters responding with "Yes Sir" and "Understood, Sir" the whole way.

 _Awkward_ was the word for it. More so when Dee and Kenny immediately broke off from them, leaving her and Butters looking like a couple. It was hard not to be aware of other girls _looking,_ possibly _judging._

 _What the fuck do I care? They can think what they want._

She'd spent most of the dance with her arms crossed over her chest, as it made her feel more intimidating and less approachable, but Butters didn't seem to notice nor care. He'd chattered the whole time, always in his bright, energetic way... it was actually kinda _hard_ to stay grumpy around him.

It was even harder when he'd gone running for the dance floor- he danced much the same way he talked; oddly and unashamed of that oddness. She hadn't danced _with_ him, per say, but she did dance _next to_ him, bouncing to the music, grooving her hips a little, loosening up and having some fun.

And then the singing contest had started, and they had watched the opening act, side-by-side on the outskirts of the main crowd. They'd cowered from that _terrible fucking noise_ right there at the beginning... and Heidi had covered her ears again when she realized what the song was.

Dee got booed off the stage before he could make it to the second round of the chorus. He had tried to keep it going, backing up all the way to the black curtain at the back of the stage, looking like he might just slip through it just to keep on singing despite the approach of a teacher to stop him, but then the DJ cut his music and that was that. Just as well- the wire wouldn't have reached much further if he'd slipped off the back of the stage to keep Ace from taking the mic away from him.

"I'm sure the yearbook will remember." Heidi pointed out with a wry smirk. "Rick Rolling the homecoming dance sounds like something that'll get half of a page in the memories section, at least."

"Oh, look! Dee's comin' this way! Over here, Dee!" Butters began to wave as a certain red puff of curly hair began moving through the crowd of kids around the stage, and as he got closer his _grinning, trolling, u mad bro? face_ came into view as well.

" _What'd I miss?"_

"Oh, hey Kenny." Heidi's head jerked off to her side, suddenly finding Kenny standing next to her. He must have just gotten back from the restroom. "Uh... Dee got booed off."

"It wasn't _fair_ I tells ya!" Butters proclaimed as Dee escaped the main bulk of kids and arrived to join the quartet. "Your singin' wasn't that bad."

Dee's wide grin remained, shrugging his shoulders before showing his hands- they were trembling.

"Oh goodness gracious! You had some nerves! Do you wanna take a sec outside and get some air, feller?"

Dee appeared to think about this for a second, then nodded.

" _I'll go with him."_ Kenny volunteered, pretty much instantly. Their quartet, once again, separated into two pairs, and Heidi watched as Kenny and Dee made for the hall that led away from the cafeteria area and towards the bus parking lot, where doors had been propped open to let cool air into the party zone. A teacher would be watching that area, but they were usually pretty cool about letting kids step out for a minute to _breathe._

"Hey, Butters... are Kenny and Dee... _together?"_

Heidi couldn't help but notice that they seemed awfully comfortable around each other, considering the amount of _distance_ and _bullying_ that normally went on in male relationships at this school. Where was the ripping? The teasing? The borderline hazing? Sure, Kenny was quiet, and Dee was pretty much silent as the grave, with a recent song being the exception to the rule... but she didn't really get a _friends_ vibe off of them. Or, to put it better, she didn't get the _just friends_ vibe off of them.

" _Huh?!"_ Butters reacted to this thought with surprise. "W-whaddya mean, _together?_ I mean, they just left together, just a couple fellers, makin' sure the other feller doesn't get lost out in the cold, or- or-, _uh..._ lonely, right? That's what friends do for one another, don't they?"

 _Well, that answers my question... must be a secret, though._

"Sure, Butters." She responded, letting it go. "That's... exactly what friends do."

* * *

Dee and Kenny returned in time to see Wendy, Stan, and Kyle do their group act... which turned out pretty well, all things considered; a rendition of _Summer Nights_ from the musical _Grease._ Kyle lagged a little on the choreography, but it hardly ruined the act. A group of upperclassmen boys all got up on stage to sing _Man, I Feel Like a Woman..._ badly, but it got a lot more laughs than Dee's act did. There were a handful of altogether forgettable acts, an upperclassmen girl absolutely _nailing_ the song _I Will Always Love You,_ enough so that a few couples began slow-dancing to it, and the closer... was Jimmy, who had somehow found his way into doing an encore with _White and Nerdy._

After all the acts had gone, it was time for judgment and prizes. Kids were allowed to vote, but the final decision was made by a trio of teachers that Dee didn't know; she had to assume they were all from the classes for the higher grades... so she filed them as unimportant, and simply waited for the results.

The DJ went back to blasting inoffensive pop music while deliberations were going on. During that wait, Dee sent off a text for a ride. Whether things went her way or not, she had a place she needed to be after this. Butters had gone to the dance-floor, and Heidi had actually gone with him without any grumbling. Kenny had gone, too, spinning around the long loose ends of his scarf like a stripper would tassels and looking like he was having _entirely_ too much fun.

She would have danced, too, but _fuck_ if it wasn't hot in the cafeteria right now. She'd made the mistake of wearing her hoodie with a sports bra, not her binder. Sure, she had a T-shirt underneath, but she had no desire to suffer from the heat, nor oust herself this evening. No, no, she was content to watch her friends have fun, hanging out on the sidelines and waiting for answers.

If this went right, she still had a particularly unhappy task to accomplish. If it had gone wrong... well, a certain amount of _adaptation_ would be required.

The DJ faded out the music as, once again, Ace took the stage. Being part of the crowd this time, Dee was actually able to _see_ the woman clearly; she'd dressed in a blouse that appeared to be _made of silver glitter,_ and a set of black slacks. With green face paint, possibly left-over from the game, she had the Cows fully represented in her look... _talk about team spirit._

Picking up the mic, her greeting got full attention at the stage.

" _Hey South Park Middle School, are we ready to hand out some prizes?!"_

How the heck did a woman so tiny manage to belt it so well? Oh, sure, the mic helped, but there was some raw enthusiasm in there that just wasn't had by a lot of people. The sort that made a whole bunch of kids who hadn't even participated cheer back at her; the general roar of _hell yes_ without actually having any words in it.

" _Well, the judges had to have a good and hard **think** about it, but we've finally got some winners. So, let's start with third prize, and the winner of a 10$ gift card to Tweek Bros. Coffee... **Summer Nights!** As sung by Wendy, Stan, Kyle, Bebe, Red, Nichole, Kevin, and Clyde! One or all of you, please come up and collect your prize!" _

_Good luck splitting that one eight ways. Oh, well, it's about competing, not the prizes, right?_

Bebe was the one who arrived on stage to collect the gift card, decked out in red and looking every bit like the most beautiful gal in the grade. She smiled like a movie star, even when collecting third prize.

" _Okay, now on to second prize, which... okay, kids I just want to put this out there- you are all **very sweet,** voting for a competitor who wasn't able to appear tonight, due to his recent injuries. This kind of charity is rarely seen nowadays, and I think it's fantastic that so many of you put in ballots for this young man who couldn't make it here tonight. Winning second prize, a 20$ gift card to Buca De Faggoncini, Eric Cartman!" _

_That was it._ Confusion spread among a select few students- most notably _Wendy,_ who could be heard over the whispering with a cry of _"What?!"_ in concert with Kyle.

 _That was the goal. It had worked._ Dee had managed to rig second prize for Cartman, despite the fact that he wasn't even _here._ And she? She lost, hardcore. The fact that she got booed off meant that everything went pretty much _exactly_ as planned- one of the suggestions built into that blast of noise was that everyone should _hate_ her act... and Rick Rolling everyone just seemed to be the way to make it look natural and have fun with it.

" _Of course, since he's not here... oh, can one of his friends please deliver this to him? I'm sure this was **someone's** idea, could they please come up here?" _

That was her cue. Dee began moving through the crowd, approaching the stage fairly easily and stepping up into the lights... and realizing that Ace wasn't actually all that much taller than her. _Damn_ she was tiny.

Receiving Cartman's prize, everything was going as she and Kenny planned it- now she had a _reason_ to go see him in the hospital, and a peace offering to get the conversation started on the right foot.

She didn't stay for first prize to be announced, hopping off the stage and making for the doors.

Liane was here by now- she'd confirmed as much by text just a moment ago.

* * *

Getting a ride from Cartman's mother had been necessary to get into his hospital room at this time of night; well past visiting hours, it was only a family member who could get a 'friend' in to see the guy when most of the main staff was gone. Liane was perfectly sweet in explaining the situation to the receptionist; that her boy had won a prize at school, and his _dear little friend_ wanted to deliver it to him, personally. As a plus, the person at the front desk had been a guy, and Liane rarely needed an excuse to turn on the charm. In only a moment, Dee was given a room number and waved on.

Since it was after hours, Cartman's hospital room was _dark._ Some light streamed in from the hallway through the window in the door, but that mostly served to make the room feel _creepy_ more than anything.

As a final stroke of luck, it appeared that Cartman had his hospital room to himself. There was another bed, but it was empty.

Cartman was, unsurprisingly, asleep when Dee first arrived... but she made a point of shutting the door hard, and the sound made him start in bed, leaning up at first before his cracked ribs forced him back down in a storm of cursing and whimpering. His face screwed up, not even looking at whom might have entered. _"Goddamnit nurse I told you to fuckin' close that goddamn door quietly you bitch ass whore!"_

The lack of apology or rebuttal must have been what made him look. Eyes opened, and they pair shared a moment of silent recognition.

"You... have _got_ to be fuckin' kidding me right now, Douchebag. I'm in the goddamned _hospital,_ and... what? What are you even here for, you _goddamn bitch tits pussy?_ What? Did Kyle put you up to this? Is his jew ass too fucking cowardly to come finish the job himself, he's gotta hire someone else to do it for 'em?"

 _You are surprisingly articulate for someone who was just asleep._ Dee approached his bedside, pulling up one of the chairs they kept around for visitors. Cartman eyed her; curious, angry, _maybe_ a touch scared.

It was at that point that Dee handed over the gift card.

"Huh? What's... a gift card? Hey, I love Buca Di Faggoncini's! Wait, wait, what the fuck is this- are you- _are you apologizing to me?_ That's fuckin' gay, Douchebag, guys don't apologize to each other, they fucking rip on each other until they die. No wonder you don't have any real friends, you keep trying to do things like a _girl."_

Dee glanced back, towards the hallway, and then to Cartman again. Without a word, she reached into her kangaroo pocket and pulled out her phone.

"What? Shit, now you're _ignoring me?_ Good 'ol cold shoulder- well I got news for you, I'm gonna keep this stupid gift card, and _not_ accept your apology, because you're a stupid fuckin'-"

Her phone suddenly began emitting a horrible noise. It shut Cartman up, making him cry out instead of whatever the hell he was planning on saying. The one made for the dance had been a test... and this one? This one had been made just for him, just for this exchange.

" _WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT SHIT?!"_

Cartman didn't hold his reproach, once the sound stopped.

"Something to clear the air." She responded, sounding rather matter-of-fact as her phone got put away.

"Oh my _god, we're talking again-_ put your boner away, Douchebag, I'm not interested."

"Good for you." She didn't miss a beat, not bothering to correct him. It wouldn't matter, she wasn't here to argue on the little shit. "I rigged the singing contest to get you that prize. It's a peace offering."

 _That_ struck him. There was a moment of pause, Cartman holding the gift card in his chubby fingers and looking down at it, and then up at her, and then down again. He didn't seem to comprehend the _why,_ but enough curiosity had been raised that he'd stopped shouting.

"... you made me win?"

"Second place." She responded. "Kyle got third, for the record. I didn't rig _that,_ it's just how it worked out."

" _Suck it Keyl!"_ Cartman celebrated, his arms getting thrown up in the air for a split second before jerking back down, reminded of his _fucking cracked ribs_ and letting out a pathetic mewl of pain.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're very pleased... so, I want you to tell me something, Cartman. _Why did you try to kidnap Wendy?"_

"To fuckin' make you co-operate you asshole." He responded without hesitation. "Weaselly douche, you never do what I want you to, so I needed some assurance."

Dee waved her hand, swiping it from side to side as if clearing away smoke. "Obviously, but _why_ were you trying to manipulate me? What was so important about the contest?"

Truly, she wanted to swear up and down at him. Presenting herself in this calm, collected manner was a struggle, even now... but getting this answer was pretty damn important to her.

She was pretty sure it was important to Cartman, too. The guy leaned back in his bed, eyes widening as it appeared he wasn't sure of how to answer her at first. His fat face moved, lips forming a number of different starting syllables, but never putting any voice to them. Then, after several seconds of failing to say anything, he finally came up with. " _I needed to show everyone the truth."_

" _What truth?"_ She pressed.

"I... I... _I... Can't!"_ His voice suddenly _barked,_ enraged as his free hand swept out towards his bed-side table, where a vase of flowers was sitting- no doubt from his mother. The vase went crashing to the floor, and the hand that had lashed out found itself atop his skull, ruffling up his hair as he clawed into his own scalp. "It's _there_ but it's _not,_ like something I can _smell_ and _taste_ but can't _name-_ I _know_ it but I don't, and- and- _everyone has to know it, I have to-"_

" _No, you don't."_

She emphasized herself as she spoke, her tone low and firm. It seemed the vocal equivalent of a mouse stopping a rhino, but he ceased in his prattling.

"What, are you gonna _threaten_ me again, Douchebag?"

"No, nothing like that." She informed him. "I'm going to _give_ you something; a hint to a piece of information that, if you used it, would force me to move away from South Park... so the next time you feel like _threatening_ me, you can use _that,_ and leave our friends the _fuck out of it."_

"... and what makes you think I won't use it right away? This sounds like a bad deal for you Douchebag, maybe you should have consulted with the jew before you walked in here."

"Because you know I'm useful." She responded. "You know full well I can do things others can't- that and you know that if I were forced to leave South Park, _I'd destroy you on the way out, since I'd have nothing left to protect._ Go on, chess-master; predict the moves on that one... you probably know me well enough to know I do what I do to _protect_ what I have. Take that away, and I won't care anymore. I think the appropriate term for this kind of deal is _mutually assured destruction."_

At that, she stood up out of the chair, heading back towards the door. She'd said her piece, and now it was time to let him decide in the few seconds she'd give him between point A and point B.

"Douchebag! W-wait! So, the deal is, you give me this info, I don't hurt anybody when I wanna make you do stuff, and... you do stuff?"

"That's the deal. And, if you do anything like you tried to pull with Wendy..." She turned, one hand on the door handle, the other grabbing the crotch of her pants- reminding him of the _last_ threat she made in his general direction. She was pleased that it still got the same reaction of making him shrink back and whimper. "Does that work for you?"

"Yeah, yeah, _sure!_ So... so what's the info?"

A _smile,_ spreading across her face while a bitter taste played on the back of her tongue.

"I told you my real name when I first moved to South Park."

 _And thanks to that sound I played for you... you shouldn't **ever** be able to say it aloud. _

_**~Fin**_

* * *

 _::The Authors Corner::_

 _WELL THAT'S A LONG ASS CHAPTER._

BTW, yes, there is a purposeful theme going on where both Dee's greatest ally [Kenny] and her greatest enemy [Cartman] gain similar information on her- such as the sound of her voice, and what her real name is. Something to be said about the intimacy of both enemies and lovers, and how well they know one another.

ANYWAY ANOTHER INSTALLMENT BITES THE DUST! As mentioned in the previous chapter, I'll be taking a little break from writing to recharge my creative batteries, polish the outline of the next story, ect. Ect.

The next installment of the New Kid Stories will be called **I Want You! To Spread Propaganda.** I hope you all look forward to it, and remember to add me to your author alerts to you get pinged when the next story hits the web. If you wanna help keep your hype up, participate in the brainstorming, or just shoot me a message, I welcome you to come find me over on Tumblr, where if you search justcallmebuttlord my blog should pop right up.

As always, thank you all for your support, and I look forward to seeing you next time.

 _-Buttlord_


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